


A Bronze's Hold On A Green

by DarkDarkerDarkest



Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Benden Weyr, Cove Hold, Dragon Stones, F/M, Half-circle Seahold, M/M, Multi, Pern, Southern Weyr, landing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:30:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 128,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2133738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkDarkerDarkest/pseuds/DarkDarkerDarkest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>T'gellan flirted with Menolly in Dragonsong and Mirrim got jealous. A bit of background to fill out what was already a well developed relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Convalescence in Southern

**Author's Note:**

> Pern and its inhabitants are the property of the late, great Ann McCaffrey. The settings, the locations and most of these characters in this story are the creation of Ann McCaffrey. 
> 
> This starts as a four chapter treatment of T’gellan and Mirrim long before they were at Eastern. Eventually it will expand to bring them to Eastern and right before the start of “All The Weyrs of Pern”.

T’gellan couldn’t believe his luck, double-edged as always. Young Mirrim was here, at Benden, but under the most devastating circumstances. Only that morning, Brekke’s Wirenth rose to mate and Kylara’s Pridith rose to fight. The moment both queens had gone between, every dragon and rider had known. His bronze Monarth had keened until the bones behind his ears throbbed. The pain of this loss was more intense than a shock of threadscore. Two queens, gone. His immediate thought was of kind Brekke and her gentle, healing hands. Could she survive losing her queen?

F’nor had brought Brekke back to his weyr in Benden and her foster-daughter, Mirrim, came with them. He hadn’t seen her yet; he wasn’t sure when he would but she was back in his presence. What luck? That evening, after his sweep ride, T’gellan stationed himself at one of the outer tables that commanded a broad view of the entire dining hall, the bowl and part of the kitchen. He was shocked when he realized that the tall, grim figure was her. She had run the steps between F’nor’s weyr to the kitchen, then the infirmary across the bowl repeatedly. Mirrim looked pale with red-rimmed eyes and unkempt hair. Nothing like the first time he saw her . . .

It wasn’t threadscore that had taken him back to Southern Weyr but a shoulder wound during a rescue operation. When he burst from between with great Monarth bugling distress, he at first thought it was for their passengers; one badly injured brown named Keth and his unconscious rider, B’tarth. Monarth landed his hind legs.

_“Put your hind feet on the ground, Keth. They come with numbweed. You are strong. Your rider is strong.”_

T’gellan felt the weight lift from his back but something tugged at his shoulder. Keth’s fore claw had penetrated his wherhide jacket and into his shoulder. Funny, it didn’t hurt, then. Monarth eased forward so that Keth could lie down. Healers were already swarming the four of them. They spun in his fading vision and bodies climbed behind him, voices calling out. His last memory before unconsciousness was _“Brekke, Brekke, we’re hurt...”_

# # #

Deft fingers fixed the outer bandages to his arm and neck as T’gellan regained his senses. He heard Monarth first. _“Brekke and the dark one say you will heal well. I am going for a swim.”_ Abruptly, the cold gulf of between cut off his dragon’s thoughts.

“ …easier patient than threadscored. He’s yours to tend,” a woman’s voice above him said.

An acerbic voice responded from beside his numb left side. “Then let me tend and you return to B’tarth. Goren said he was thrashing and it will wake Keth again.”

“Manners are not just for the bedside, Love,” the calming voice that he now recognized as Brekke’s was fading as it walked away.

“Yes ma’am,” sighed the other voice. She began humming the Duty song as he felt her move pillows behind his head and tuck a light blanket about his body. T’gellan opened his eyes to flat grey. He realized a compress was over his eyes and he groaned when he lifted his left hand to remove it. A firm palm pushed down on his forehead as the voice chided, “Now, now, Rider. We have gone through much toil to dress you out, the least you can do is to lie still. Those are your orders.”

T’gellan used his right hand to press over the hand on his forehead. Firmly he moved the hand and compress from his eyes. It was late afternoon. He became aware of birdsong and droning bugs as he gazed into depthless green eyes from a child’s face. “You’re but a _girl_!” he blurted.

“And you’re but a _boy_ on a bronze,” she rejoined. “You are in Southern and you are my patient. Now cooperate. You don’t need the compress and we can leave it off. I do need my hand, so let it go.”

It was the first time since he impressed his magnificent bronze Monarth that T’gellan had felt like a child. “Yes ma’am,” he replied as he gave her hand a slight squeeze before letting it go. Her brows arched over those sea green eyes but she smirked then moved back. “You must be hungry, I’ll warrant. Would you like some bread and broth?” He nodded as she moved away. He became aware of his room which was actually a long hall with a succession of beds along the wall. He was not the only patient. To his right was a grizzled rider, grinning widely.

“She’s a competent healer’s apprentice, young Mirrim,” said he. “G’nareth, Blue Bleth’s rider of Telgar.” He crossed his right arm with his fist over his heart in the deferential salute owed to bronze riders.

“Mirrim,” said T’gellan, lost in thought for a moment before he remembered his rank and duty. “T’gellan, Bronze Monarth’s rider of Benden”. He nodded, releasing the older man’s salute. As he lay back, G’nareth chuckled. T’gellan felt like an eight turner.

 _“I like Brekke’s dark one._ ” came Monarth’s thought, unbidden. T’gellan grinned. Dragons rarely named humans let alone assign feeling towards them so quickly. His stomach grumbled and he realized that he was looking forward to seeing the server more than he was the food she would bring.

# # #

A sevenday into his convalescence at Southern, T’gellan was allowed to move to an open weyr. Monarth had already created a wallow in the gritty dirt. He rumbled with contentment as T’gellan ambled into view. Both lids on his great eyes lowered as he huffed a breath that blew across the clearing unsettling a few fellis blossoms off the largest sample of that kind T’gellan had ever seen. As the petals wafted to the ground, T’gellan gaze drew to his immense bronze companion’s exposed abdomen. Up North, his dragon would have curled up to conserve warmth but here, winter chills were unknown. It was comical to see his dragon on his back sunning his immense belly.

With his unbound hand, he picked up the gritty dirt and rubbed it on a patch of dry skin. He noticed another patch further up so attacked that spot by scaling the belly. Once on top, he realized how quickly he tired. Monarth’s rangy odor was always strongest on his belly. It was T’gellan’s favorite fragrance. Although his bandaged arm and shoulder hindered him he found a way to lie on his back and face the declining sun as well.

While drowsing, he thought of his first experience with a woman. It had been soon after his and Monarth’s first flight between. Willa of the lower caverns in Benden had wooed him. Her favorite location for her particular brand of initiation was an inaccessible stretch of beach on an island off of Ista. Well, inaccessible to all but a dragon rider. Aside from Lessa, Willa was the only woman that Monarth had listened to. Once he knew her plan, he had no hesitation in taking them to the beach that she had imaged.

That had been two turns ago. Soon another batch of dragons and riders were paired and as T’gellan’s prowess increased, Willa’s interest waned. As she was fifteen turns his senior, it should not have stung as much. Since he was given leave to visit Gathers he found plenty of women ready to bed him. He guessed he could have been hare-lipped and gimped legged, his allure was the great beast he lay upon.

“Odd,” he mused, “It must be the heady smell of fellis and sea that makes me remember her.” Simultaneously he and Monarth sighed. Monarth still turned his great head when Willa was in view. Many bronzes did. He felt his dragon shift, then cradle him in a forepaw and roll. Once he was under his dragon, he was laid on the dirt and Monarth backed away.

“You are as silly as a wherrie, Rider, to let the sun burn you red,” said a familiar voice. Mirrim was over him, slathering a cooling salve on his face and arms. “You did your bandages no service either. Why there must be as much dirt in there as there is on Monarth’s hide.”

The image of Willa was still fresh in his mind as he opened his eyes. Instead of strawberry waves caressing a heart-shaped face with wide set blue eyes and languid smile, there were green pebble eyes and a sardonic smirk. He was beginning to like those eyes.

“Can you stand?” she asked, already pushing him to a sitting position.

“Leave off, child,” he gruffed. He scrambled to his knees and realized at once that his exposed legs had burned too. He stifled a groan. Mirrim was under his good shoulder, expertly holding him steady as she directed him to the hut at the edge of the clearing.

“Tell your dragon to go for an evening swim.” she ordered. Before T’gellan could bespeak Monarth, the dragon had turned away and leapt to the sky, the current of air from his down-sweep driving grit into their backs. By then she had guided him to a bench inside the hut. He relaxed as she uncovered a glow.

“Well, it’s not my fault if your face peels. It’s a pretty good sunburn,” she remarked. Deftly she untied the various knots holding his arm to his chest. He looked down to the padding over the puncture that Keth’s leading wing claw had dug into the fleshy part beside his armpit. He had already seen the scar and listen to Brekke, Healer Goren and Mirrim’s discussions. Dragon claw wounds tended to fester. They were pleased to remark on its health.

He couldn’t fault Keth. The dragon had popped between when thread had raked him and his rider in an updraft caused by dragon wings rather than gravity. T’gellan had relied on Monarth’s senses to be directly under the pair when they reappeared. The blast of cold between had saved him from the initial shock of the claw. A dragon who curled a wing under himself like that surely couldn’t fly. Monarth had quickly assessed and popped between to medical attention.

To his credit, Keth would fly again, but not until the thin wing membrane regrew. He and his rider were in Southern for at least a turn. T’gellan would be able to fly between within three sevenday. He’d be back on duty in another two. Both he and B’tarth had stoically absorbed wingleader N’ton’s admonitions two days later. _“_ Don’t get used to this _”_ was N’ton’s last instructions to T’gellan.

Mirrim had taken the affected arm by the elbow and placed it carefully on a block of wood that served as an arm rest. “I’ll let you air for a moment.” She stepped away and shook out the outer bandage flinging grit out the door. “There now, we might be able to get another day of use out of this if you promise to stop playing in the dirt.”

“What I’d really like is a soak,” T’gellan said, thinking of the hot pool in his Benden weyr.

“Absolutely not,” she imposed. “You cannot think of swimming yet.

“I was thinking more of the hot baths in Benden,” he replied. “There are thermals in BendenRange that warm all the weyrs. They bubble up steaming water from underground to each weyr.”

She considered him for a moment, a slight scowl on her forehead. “Each weyr has a thermal pool?”

“Yes,” he replied. “Every weyr has a bathing room that annexes the bedchambers and dragon couches. The ancients built them. They work exactly the same as they did to this day.” T’gellan was aware that the thermals actually required regular maintenance of which he knew little but he was proud to be of Benden and fond of his bathing pool.

Her lips curled in a quirky half grin. “A whole pool of water you didn’t have to heat. I’d bath daily.” She gave a little sigh and returned to her task.

He knew to keep his arm still. He had tried to feed himself that first day only to find that his dominant hand was useless until the wound healed enough. Using the other hand proved messy. She had spooned the broth into his mouth like he was a child except that she kept up a lively banter for him, G’nareth, and the other convalescing riders whose attempts to tease her evoked sharp retorts that kept T’gellan in light spirits. He had tried to gauge her age that first day. She was too mature and adept to be a child and yet she was not near full grown. Now, as she moved about his room, fluffing the thick rush bag on the narrow cot, pulling the curtains over the windows and moving the spindly table to his side, she moved like a woman, her shift was meant to hide the soft curves of her body. She returned to his side to smooth more cooling salve on his arm and chest where the outer bandage had not protected.

“I’m a bit thirsty,” he replied. “Is there a wineskin about?” Shrewd green eyes observed him.

“I will bring you some juice and food.” She replied. “You’re in no condition to go to the mess hall. Not with that red face. Brekke will flay me.”

T’gellan chuckled. The Brekke he knew was incapable of it. “Your foster mother would do no such thing.”

Mirrim grinned sheepishly, “No, she wouldn’t. But her disappointment in me would feel like a whip.”

He gripped her hand where it had lingered on his arm. “I promise to stay low until the burn fades. Will you bring me something to eat?”

Her genuine smile in return gave him his answer. That evening the two of them sparred over the first of several meals. Each morning, Mirrim sponged him clean then spread salve over his face, arms, chest and legs and each evening before he drifted to sleep she repeated the ministrations. Daily, he endured the manipulation of his arm as she made him exercise it, another exquisite torture. Her quick wit and sharp tongue matched his jesting humor. Often, Monarth’s rumble would follow her rejoinders. One morning, he’d spied her caressing Monarth’s eye ridges before she scratched at the door to his hut.

After a sevenday or so, Brekke came in Mirrim’s stead. By then his burn had faded into a ruddy tan. She spoke pleasantly as she examined the wound and manipulated his arm. She quietly told him that he was free to fly to the beaches for the day and occupy his time with other endeavors. He thought it best to leave the girl alone. Brekke had intimated as much. After a few days frolicking with his dragon in the warm salt waters and drowsing under the trees at beach line he felt restless to return to Benden. T’gellan didn’t see Mirrim again until the day he left. She was not cold to him, exactly, but obviously aware that she had been reproached for the attachment. Healers did not fraternize with patients, especially Bronze Dragon Riders. And yet...

And yet he hadn't let those green eyes go, not even when he and Monarth were back at Benden.

 


	2. Fall Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scenes in this chapter relate to the Harper Hall Trilogy which occurs at the same time as McCaffrey’s ‘Dragonquest’. Some dialog matches scenes in the first book of the Harper Hall Trilogy, ‘Dragonsong’. Again, I am committed to staying as true to Ann McCaffrey’s world of Pern and her characters.

Several months had passed and winter was beginning to break into spring in the BendenMountains. T’gellan had finished a midday sweep and sat alone at a back table near the day hearth. Falls had been uneventful since Keth’s scoring and his superiors were pleased with his progress. T’gellan had been made wingleader before any of his other hatchmates. He thought he might become Fall Leader first too. When he wasn’t fighting, riding or sleeping, his mind would wander to Southern and the young healer. He tried not to think of her administering hands touching other riders but thoughts came unbidden. He jumped slightly when somebody joined him at his table.

Willa proffered a sweetbread as she sat, one well-tended brow arched over a perfect blue eye. “You are quite the serious one, these days, T’gellan.”

“I am?” he replied, giving her a half smile.

“I suppose your mind is in Southern.” She smiled back, enjoying his start. His excuses to return to Southern were thinly veiled. Even young bronze riders didn’t pull duty for medical supplies. “If you are looking for another excuse, I’d like to go to Southern and so would Sanra. Would you take us the next restday?”

“If I am off duty; I suppose I would.” T’gellan concentrated on tearing the roll into small chunks, “What’s the attraction for you and Sanra?”

“Besides never seeing it, we’d like to visit. Just promise me that you’re attracted to Brekke or another young lovely and not that Weyrwoman.” Willa smiled at his red face, knowing she need not concern herself on that score.

Brekke’s reckoning was keen. She usually made sure Mirrim was otherwise occupied when Wirenth informed her that Monarth was landing. But when she heard Wirenth comment about passengers, she decided to observe the two of them seeing each other again, especially since the tall bronze rider accompanied two voluptuous women.

Mirrim’s reaction was controlled while T’gellan’s was anything but. Both Benden women caught the undercurrent and behaved like typical women vying for a Bronze rider’s attention. Brekke was pleased although Southern Weyr suffered Mirrim’s foul mood for a few days. Eventually, Mirrim returned to the sober, dependable worker.

In the turn that followed, events leading to the altercation at the Minersmith crafthall and the Oldtimers’ attack that led to F’nor’s knife wound meant changes in dragonkind’s conduct. In all that time he had seen Mirrim once. One look into her eyes convinced him that she was worth the interest. It was his first glimpse of fire lizards and it didn’t surprise him that his fiery girl had impressed three.

The entire southern continent became unavailable as the Oldtimers were banned. But the ban worked both ways. Without the southern beaches, how would F’lar’s plan to present every Lord Holder, Mastercraftman and harper with their own miniature dragons? Even though dragonriders spent scant spare time trudging the beaches of the Northern Continent, nobody from Benden had found a fire lizard clutch.

# # # 

Mirrim’s routine varied except for feeding time. At dawn and dusk she fed the five fire lizards. She had her three, F’nor’s golden Grall and Brekke’s bronze Berd. Generally, there was at least one extra helper in the evenings so T’gellan chose the morning to approach Mirrim. The creels reminded him of Monarth when he was less than a day old.

“Do you want some help with these rav-ravenous beasts?” T’gellan tried to sound casual but he stammered when her shoulders stiffened.

She replied casually, “Help yourself to the scraps on the tray.”

One brown fire lizard was perched in the center trying to eat all the meat scraps. T’gellan reached behind the little brown and grabbed a few gobbets of meat. One green sailed to his forearm and snatched a piece from his outreached hand. He was enchanted with the little gluttons. As they approached full bellies their cries abated to low croons. Their glistening skins spoke of good health although the bronze on Mirrim’s shoulder was not as deeply hued as his own Monarth. He lifted and flew toward F’nor’s weyr as soon as he had his fill. Mirrim sighed deeply.

T’gellan faced her with a euphoric grin which she echoed. The green was still sitting on his forearm and the brown faced him inquiringly as if he may still have a morsel in his hand. “The little green on your arm is Lok and the brown is Tolly. They like their eye ridges scratched. This one is Reppa,” She indicated by shrugging the shoulder on which a bigger green perched. The golden on her arm abruptly lifted and flew towards the wingleaders’ quarters. “That’s F’nor’s Grall.”

At that moment Felena appeared with a laden tray, “It’s ready, girl,” she called out. Mirrim immediately whirled toward the woman, the anxiety in her steps returned. “Can I help you with ...”

T’gellan called after her but her form disappeared up the stairs. The three remaining fire lizards trailed behind her. “It’s a good start,” he murmured. “At least I didn’t say anything to make a fool of myself.”

The new routine had been in place for about a sevenday. Gradually, Mirrim began speaking more during morning feeding. She looked exhausted. The Weyr was subdued mostly because of Brekke. She had been F’nor’s lover, even before her Queen had gone between. F’nor had even missed a Fall. Manora, his mother and Benden Weyr’s Headwoman was as consumed with Brekke’s care to the point that Felena was in charge during mornings. The drain on the dragons was worse. They could hear her internal keening for Wirenth and refusal to respond to them.

There was a fall early that morning down Nerat. It was expected to be short since most of the fall occurred over water. This was T’gellan’s first Fall as Leader. Monarth chided him more than once during his briefing because T’gellan surreptitiously glanced at Mirrim feeding the fire lizards. She peeked at him as her faire dispersed but he didn’t see.

It wasn’t until his dragon was under him that T’gellan was in the fight. The Fall was typical except that two holders were out in the open and had to be rescued. After the successful fight, the wingleaders met on Lower Nerat Beachhead, T’gellan learned that the one from Half Circle Hold was Elgion. “Inform the holder that his harper, Elgion, is at Benden Weyr,” N’ton advised as he stepped up his bronze dragon. “I have dealt with this holder. Name’s Yanus. A dour sort but dutiful. Tell him that Elgion was on weyr business if he asks too much. Elgion said he was searching for fire lizard eggs.”

# # #

 Monarth came from between directly over the entrance to the harbor. It looked like mountain with a yawning mouth. A few ships had already cleared it, taking advantage of the good fishing so close after a fall. The entire harbor and hold was within half of a conical volcano. Monarth chose to swoop around one side and land neatly in front of the holdway before the great doors hewn from the mountain. “ _Who are you showing off for_?” T’gellan thought toward his dragon.

“ _We are Wingleaders,”_ answered Monarth, _“Our duty is to amaze holders.”_

“ _We protect hol-_ OOF”! T’gellan tried to answer but Monarth executed a four point landing with his wings, neck and tail high. T’gellan had a chance to reposition himself between the neck ridges as Monarth neatly turned a quarter circle with his neck high so that T’gellan’s first look upon the assembled was a good length above the tallest. One craggy, barrel-chested man stepped forward followed by two younger versions. T’gellan swung one lanky leg over Monarth’s neck just as he folded his wings. For a moment T’gellan was certain to fall on his face but his boots connected with a raised fore-knee and he nimbly stepped forward in a salute to Yanus.

_“We amaze! The front one worries about the lost one.”_

Yanus began to speak but T’gellan held up his hand, “My Duty to you, Seaholder Yanus. Harper Elgion is at Benden Weyr. The wings report no thread got through the ranks”.

“Yes, Benden always . . . you say Harper Elgion is at Benden? Was he injured? Was he found injured? He had left the hold too early to be warned of fall.” Yanus spoke rapidly, forehead furrowed.

“He is in good health and please to be at Benden for, ah, another briefing. He will return before night.” T’gellan’s first impression of the Seaholder was altered to believe the man compassionate, until Yanus spun to the man on his right.

“To the boats,” He barked. The man nodded and turned on a heel while most of the men not holding the agenothree tanks turned too. The one to Yanus’ left limped forward. He had a cast on his leg.

“Our duty to you, T’gellan, rider of bronze Monarth. I am Alemi. Now that the Seaholder is relieved to know our Hold Harper is safe, he is anxious to get to the fleet.” Alemi tilted his head slightly.

Yanus regarded the young man for an instant then turned to T’gellan. “May we offer you some refreshment, rider?”

“Feel free to be off to your craft, Seaholder, my lunch awaits at Benden.”

Yanus accepted the tacit release from his duty to Benden Weyr by nodding and retreating to his hold followed by the ground crew. Alemi stepped forward. “Please do not be harsh on Elgion, he wanted to search the beach above the Dragon Stones for, of all things, fire lizard eggs.”

T’gellan immediately brightened, “Fire lizards! Have you seen sign?”

“Well, I thought that once I saw what could have been fire lizards. The two of us, Elgion and me, sailed to The Stones a few days ago. Elgion thought he’d investigate on foot. It’s a good half-day walk from the hold to those cliffs but, he chose the wrong day.” Both young men grinned. Monarth warbled behind him.

“The Weyr thanks you for your report.”

“Fire lizards are real?”

“Most assuredly, I have held and fed one who is a perfect miniature of my bronze Monarth, about the size of my forearm.” T’gellan was taking short steps backward as he saluted then turned to vault onto Monarth. He barely got the buckles fastened when Monarth warned him to hold for the down-sweep. Two mighty sweeps of his wings and Monarth had risen above the top of the domed volcano. He veered towards the Dragon Stones low to the water letting his tail graze the surface. T’gellan fastened his riding cap and got his second glove on as the Dragon Stones were before them. With another sweep of his wings, Monarth barely cleared them then flew toward the shore. There were a few pockmarks representing shallow caves and a small beach. T’gellan considered it too small and susceptible to tides to suit a golden fire lizard’s clutch. Of one mind, T’gellan leaned forward into Monarth’s neck which he strained sharply upward then blinked between.

Alemi had watched the pair fly off, so uniform in movement that they seemed like one being. Was that what it was like to impress a dragon; one mind or rather the sharing of two?

# # #

Benden Weyr was bustling with the usual post-fall activities. Monarth landed with much less pomp in the bowl close to the stairs of Queen’s weyr. T’gellan dismounted and walked the stairs ready to give a good account of the Fall. No debilitating injuries, no thread got through, two rescues. His stomach rumbled. N’ton stepped back as T’gellan entered the room. F’lar, the Weyrleader, stood and gave T’gellan the salute with pride. The other wingleaders and wingseconds stood and saluted as T’gellan stepped to the head of the table and lead the debriefing.

Shortly after the meeting adjourned, T’gellan made for the kitchens. As he stepped to the stew pot, somebody approached him; he cleared his voice. “Excuse me rider, I was told you are T’gellan.” T’gellan suppressed his irritation and turned to a pleasant young man clad in Harper blue pants and shoulder knot of Half Circle Seahold. “I don’t mean to intrude but, I, uh, understand that you informed my Seaholder…”

“Not to worry,” T’gellan responded, “I myself told them that you were safe, and a good thing, too. They were all ready to mount a search. Which, for old Yanus, is a remarkable concession.”

Elgion kept speaking, asking questions as if he was assessing what punishment awaited him. T’gellan sighed, loosened his belt and took off his jacket. He continued to discuss with Elgion while eying the food. Perhaps Fall Leader meant a lot of skipped meals. When was this harper going to let him eat? Then S’kel called to him. T’gellan politely but determinedly begged off from Elgion who still looked like a condemned man. As he approached him, S’kel held out a mug.

“It’s not much but walk with me out to the bowl and you’ll be able to feed yourself.” S’kel said with a wink. T’gellan gratefully took the mug and drank down its content.

As soon as he saw Elgion exit the kitchen, he stepped up to the pot in the main kitchen and scooped out a healthy serving of stew then sat, facing away from the rest of the thinning crowd. He wanted to reflect on his rapid ascent to Wingleader and his first fall as the Leader. Of course, N’ton had shadowed him once on the ground. He was beginning to understand F’lar’s plan for Pern and his own part in it. With most of the Oldtimer leaders in Southern, not serving, the planet needed bronzes and browns who could lead fights. Half the battle to preserve Pern was still to be fought. Those isolated, hidebound holders and crafters needed to change their ways if Pern was to survive. T’gellan also promised himself that he’d take care of Elgion when he returned him to Half Circle Sea Hold.

As the evening meal was called, T’gellan first made sure that both he and Elgion ate another meal and then made sure that Elgion was introduced to a fire lizard. He timed Elgion’s return to his hold by late afternoon with a crowd of holders to cheer him home and some outrageous lies to the severe Seaholder in order to ensure Elgion’s position within the hold.

Soon after T’gellan returned Elgion he was back on that thin strip of beach. “Angle toward that bigger hole,” he instructed his dragon. The big beast sidled his sinewy neck then raised his forelegs. T’gellan stepped off his mount and into the cave. It had a dry sandy floor and a shallow pit had been dug and piled with rushes under a crudely woven blanket, a bed. It was in front of a rock-lined fire pit. Along the wall were a small supply of wood and a shelf of sanded driftwood with the odd bone plate, crude crockery and a bowl-shaped rock. Some were empty, one contained what looked like rancid grease and another had dried seaweed. A rack with bundled herbs and drying strips of meat, probably fish, stood against the other wall. He stepped over to the bed and felt along the blanket. There was a stack of reeds, polished and lashed together with holes cut into it. A fancy whistle? He put it back and leaned against the highest wall.

This was a person’s habitat, but only one. He saw no evidence of fire lizards. It suddenly became dark. He looked toward the opening to see Monarth’s head blocking the fading light. _“What do you see? It is too small for my head. My feet are wet.”_

 _"I still don’t think a fire lizard would have clutched on that beach, nor would she in this cave,_ “T’gellan thought back.

" _A little one would not clutch so close to man.”_

“ _You’re right. Let’s go home._ ”


	3. The Runner Exposed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this chapter continues there are scenes that relate to ‘Dragonsong’, the first book in Ann McCaffrey’s Harper Hall Trilogy. It also follows a back story from the second book, of the original Dragonriders of Pern Trilogy, ‘Dragonquest’. Dialog either matches or follows scenes from these books. This was done to stay true to Ann McCaffrey’s world of Pern and her characters.

That evening T’gran retold his rescue story about what turned out to be a lanky girl running full out to the beach. “There wasn’t so much as a cave nearby and there she was running for the beach. Making a good pace, for a girl. I thought she was a boy until Felena said it was a hold girl from Half Circle out netting spiderclaws.” The assembled chuckled.

G’sel was at the end of the table, cradling his bronze fire lizard. He added, “The Half Circle Harper was caught out too. D’you suppose they were going to rendezvous?” A bread roll bounced off his head as the others groaned or guffawed.

Mirrim appeared from the dorms and skipped down the stairs to the back kitchen. T’gellan dropped his other roll and rose. The others tittered as he walked toward the waiting fire lizards.

“Think he wants a fire lizard?” laughed Willa and the others joined in.

T’gellan slowed as he approached the bench noticing more than five fire lizards. Where did that blue come from? All but the usual 5 popped out as Mirrim bustled out with an unusually large load.

She paused. They regarded each other with knowing grins. T’gellan stepped forward to take the heavier tray. “Where’d they come from? Do they look to you?”

“No, I don’t know how they got here,” Mirrim replied. “They have been popping in since today’s Fall stealing any and all food left unattended. Even Manora is annoyed. You are supposed to find them in shell, you know.”

T’gellan laughed. “Perhaps this last Fall brought more in than two Half Circle lovers.”

Mirrim snorted. “I suppose I should be used to silly gossip made by wine.” Her cheeks reddened. T’gellan concentrated on feeding Lok and Tolly. Brekke’s bronze Berd had grabbed a few gobbets then lifted and flew back to her. Stealthily two bronzes darted forward voraciously snapping up meat from the tray. Deftly, T’gellan grabbed a few pieces and threw them out into the dark bowl where red jeweled eyes proved that the interlopers caught them in the air.

With a giggle, Mirrim followed suit tossing some more out.

The next morning, Mirrim sought T’gellan. “Would you feed the fire lizards? Manora wants me to see to the runner’s feet. You can check with Sanra for meat scraps.” She seemed unsure of his response.

T’gellan smiled assuredly. “I know I can get helpers,” he said as he reached to pat her arm but she stepped aside and scurried through the hall to the dorms. Reppa glided behind her. As T’gellan walked towards the tables by the main cooking hearth he signaled to several of the riders sitting down to an early breakfast. “Feeding fire lizards; could use some help.” He didn’t have to look to know he had followers. Again, there were more fire lizards than the ones who looked to weyrfolk. The dragonmen were having too much fun to realize the increase; they made as much noise as the creeling hoard. He heard B’fol nudge B’nard, then refer to Mirrim as the little harridan which made him grin. He didn’t have to concern himself with another rider eying his prize but then he hadn’t really won her yet. He was certain of her attraction but she didn’t display the free-will demeanor of the other women in the Weyr.

A tiny blast of cold blew down on his head. In the next instant, Reppa alighted on his elbow and held her jaws open. T’gellan popped a gobbet of meat into her mouth thinking, “Her fire lizards are certainly attached to me. I wonder if they reflect her feelings if not her actions.”

Soon the tray was empty, the riders and the fire lizards dispersed. He saw Mirrim appear from the hall to the dorms. She didn’t look towards him; she was bent on her task as he should be too. He left the tray on an outer table as he walked into the bowl calling to Monarth.

He regretted his invitation to the other riders; it became their introduction to the mini dragons’ meals. Some of the girls and women joined in caressing and oiling them before they joined their larger cousins sunning on the ledges or cavorting in the lake. Mirrim had become more reserved. Even as routine returned to the Weyr the undercurrent of desolation had not abated. Ramoth’s rumbling from the hatching grounds increased the unease. Hatching could be any day and the dragonriders’ forays along the beaches had yielded nothing but sand.

He and S’kel had landed in the bowl, hot, tired and hungry. From the corner of his eye he caught the flurry of colors escaping the hatching ground followed by a dual bellow. Ramoth had stomped to the cave’s opening, eyes burning red. A snort sent an eddy of sandy wind across the bowl pelting both riders. They hardly noticed as Lessa had dashed down the stairs from her weyr roaring her shared anger and striding straight toward them.

“Did you bring them,” she accused more than questioned. Both men took a few steps back.

“Lessa, those fire lizards came to the Weyr after the last Fall,” replied S’kel. “T’gellan, tell her about the feedings.” Lessa brushed past both dragonriders intent on consoling her queen. Both men shrugged and continued toward their lunch shaking their wherhide jackets, slapping their gloves and loosening their riding belts.

“They must belong to somebody,” said S’kel.

“They could be attracted by the ones we have.”

“Considering how badly we need the creatures…”

“In the egg,” interjected T’gellan. He caught sight of Mirrim staring at him but his eyes fell on the pretty strawberry blond stranger next to her. “Another green-eyed beauty. She must be the runner.” he mused.

S’kel was oblivious as he continued to pass by the girls. “It’s a raking nuisance to have a whole flaming fair that no one will claim.”

Suddenly, the air poofed with perhaps a dozen fire lizards in deep agitation. They congregated around both girls. Both men shrank as wings and claws brushed against their heads. The lizards telegraphed their fear and agitation to the entire hall. T’gellan noticed that the only calm person was Mirrim who was considering the poor girl covered with fire lizards. That girl was shushing them, cradling two bronzes in her arms. A golden had twined her tail around the girl’s neck trying to cover herself with the girl’s hair.

“Mirrim? Do they belong to you after all?” although he already knew the answer.

“No,” she replied evenly, “They’re hers.”

T’gellan grinned widely. One had to know Mirrim well to recognize how agitated she was. All present cringed as Lessa’s voice carried into the dining hall. “We’ll soon know whose they are, I asked Ramoth to speak to them. “

“Over here, Lessa,” T’gellan’s gaze remained on the girl who immediately tried to stand. He wondered if she was going stay true to her nickname and run. The fire lizards began fussing and wailing. T’gellan had never heard fire lizards make that noise. He heard Lessa speak then the force of her character and power of her queen silenced the little pets. T’gellan continued to watch the girl who called herself Menolly. Like a typical holder girl she tried to stand, bob and curtsey. Mirrim tried to calm the girl but she kept shooting agitated looks at him, S’kel, and the mass of fire lizards perched above her and Lessa.

 _“She is afraid,”_ a drowsing Monarth said, _“She thinks she will be turned out because she has the little ones.”_

“Cave, Where?” Lessa’s sharp voice brought him back to the conversation.

“On the coast. A-above Nerat by the Dragon Stones.” T’gellan had to agree that Menolly did look fearful.

_“Dragon Stones! The Cave!”_

T’gellan stepped forward pointing at her chest and swore then almost accused, “You were living in that cave?! I found jars and pots …. No sign of fire lizard shells.”

“I didn’t think fire lizards clutched in caves,” Lessa remarked.

Something tickled at T’gellan’s memory as Menolly explained how the eggs got from the beach to the cave. “Didn’t Oharan sing a ditty about moving a queen fire lizard’s clutch?” he mused. “She’s the Half Circle’s runaway. How long ago was that? How many falls since the Harper’s, (Elgion!) request? Even Mirrim is looking her with a bit of awe. She’s a wonder.

“I’d like to hear the whole story in sequence, one day,” Lessa said. “Right now, will you please keep your lot under control and with you? They’re upsetting Ramoth and all the others. Nine, eh? When I think where I could use nine eggs to good purpose . . .” Lessa began turning away.

“Please,” Menolly began meekly, “Do you need more fire lizard eggs?

Lessa’s reaction was frightfully fast and Menolly cowered. “Of course we need fire lizard eggs! Where have you been that you don’t know!?” Then it was T’gellan’s turn to step back as Lessa rounded on him, “You’re wingleader. Didn’t you inform all the sea holds?”

“Yes I did, Lessa,” T’gellan replied calmly as he regarded Menolly jovially, “just about the time Menolly first disappeared from her hold. Right, Menolly?” He noticed a sharp look from Mirrim. “The sweep riders have been on the lookout for her ever since, but she was holed up snug as you please in that cave, with nine fire lizards.”

Menolly hung her head like an errant child, “Please Weyrwoman, don’t send me back to Half Circle Hold!”

T’gellan almost guffawed. Lessa considered the frightened girl in front of her, “A girl who can impress nine fire lizards does not belong in a Sea Hold. T’gellan, find out from Menolly where that clutch is and secure it for us immediately. Let us fervently hope it hasn’t hatched.” She smiled and Menolly tentatively smiled back. “Aye, she is a pretty one”, T’gellan thought.

“Remember to keep those pesky creatures away from Ramoth. Mirrim can help you train them. Hers are quite useful now.” Abruptly, Lessa turned and marched away.

At first T’gellan thought Menolly would faint. Both he and Mirrim reached for her and pushed her into the seat. The little golden about her neck poked out and regarded him with red eyes slowly whirling to greenish blue. T’gellan grabbed an empty cup from the table and reached for the pot of klah pouring the tepid liquid then pressing it to Menolly’s lips. He had leaned in close with his arm about her shoulder when he realized that Mirrim’s arm overlapped his. “Drink a few sips, breathe deep breaths, Menolly,” he advised.

Mirrim was admonishing her to relax when Menolly shook her head and stared across the hall, “She’s, she’s so small!”

“Size is irrelevant” T’gellan replied.

Menolly’s hazel eyes refocused on Mirrim. “Did she really mean it? I can stay, Mirrim?”

“If you can impress nine fire lizards then you belong here. But why didn’t you tell me about them? I’ve only three.”

T’gellan grasped her arm behind Menolly’s shoulder and clicked his tongue, pleased to get a reaction out of her as Mirrim stuck her tongue out at him.

”I told mine to stay in the cave.”

Mirrim looked directly at T’gellan shaking her head “And here we’ve been wracking our brains, accusing riders of hoarding eggs…”

“I didn’t know you people needed fire lizard eggs.”

“Mirrim, stop teasing her; she’s unnerved.” T’gellan admonished. He scooted closer to her and hugged her shoulder to him as he proffered the cup to her, “Menolly, drink your klah and relax.” Mirrim took that moment to push T’gellan’s arm off Menolly.

Menolly was pensive, and then began explaining why she had said nothing of fire lizards, even when she was still living in Half Circle. T’gellan stayed, soothing her but kept his hands to himself. He was well pleased with Mirrim’s reactions but he’d have to file that away for later reflection. Right now he had to find that clutch and that meant taking Menolly for a ride. Of course, Mirrim objected. She objected just enough for her reaction to be more than simply Menolly’s healer. T’gellan could have hung all over Willa and Mirrim would not have looked their way but this girl gazes upon him and Mirrim can’t hide her agitation.

 _“The dark one is sad and angry at you.”_ Monarth bespoke T’gellan. _“And you are pleased?”_

“ _We’ll think about it later. Get your great carcass to the bowl, we’re going beach combing._ ” T’gellan thought back.

_“But we were on the beaches all morning!”_


	4. First Real Move

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter continues scenes that directly relate to ‘Dragonsong’, the first book in Ann McCaffrey’s Harper Hall Trilogy. It also follows a back story from the second book of the original Dragonriders of Pern Trilogy, ‘Dragonquest’. Dialog either matches or follows scenes from these books. This was done to stay true to Ann McCaffrey’s world of Pern and her characters.

T’gellan returned Menolly with a clutch of 31 eggs. He left her to the bustle of the lower caverns as he and Monarth lifted to their weyr. They still lived in the weyr they were assigned after their first flight. In the upper reaches and back from the main bowl, it was quiet and received a lot of sun. More for Monarth than for his rank did he decline a Wingleader’s weyr which would have given him direct access to the bowl. Here, he would always have to rely on Monarth to get to the bowl or come home but Monarth claimed that his rocky bed was perfectly shaped to him and his ledge was warm, even in winter.

Another advantage was the hot bath at the back of his sleeping quarters. The warmth and humidity welcomed him as he passed his dragon that was shifting himself into his stone couch. T’gellan stripped off his jacket and pants; kicked off his boots which skidded across the polished floor. He pulled his tunic over his head and dropped it on the press at the bottom of his bed. Stepping behind the curtain and into the steam he could feel his muscles relax. Rather than step into the large pool he cannonballed. A rumble from without was Monarth’s usual response. T’gellan was tall enough now that he touched bottom with some force. As he stood the water level was just above his navel since a good portion was now on the floor and some would trickle into his sleeping quarters. Soon the water level would fill back up to his neck.

T’gellan waded over to where he kept sweetsands for washing but rather than suds up, he dunked again, running his fingers through his cropped hair. There was a protrusion of rock that he could recline upon that kept most of his body under the warm water. There he rested and let the events of the last few sevendays replay. His attention toward Mirrim was apparent to everyone but her, until today. He knew what “sad and angry” was; he had felt it himself when Willa first passed him by for another rider.

Weyrefolk understood the vulnerability of life. Each fall held the possibility of injury or death. They were broadminded with behaviors, sexual and otherwise. A dragonman’s libido was tied to his dragon’s appetites. Some of the hold or craft bred riders could be a bit inhibited but most weyr women were born and raised to this life even if they did remember the time before the current pass. And, their fathers were riders. The Weyrwoman, however, was rarely raised in a weyr; she was usually searched. Brekke was from a crafthall and it could explain why Mirrim was inhibited around him. He was certain of her attraction. How to get her to act upon it, that was his challenge.

He couldn’t deny that Mirrim was reacting now. He didn’t believe Menolly had the maturity to think of a dragonrider like a woman. As pretty as she was, there was an air of melancholy about her. He supposed that life under the inflexible Yanus was why she had run away. Besides, she was too new to life in the weyr. She would be intimidated and hadn’t he heard a snippet that she’d be fostered to Felena?

Felena would admonish him if he tried to pursue her, not that he wanted to but he couldn’t help but smile at Mirrim’s reactions each time he paid attention to Menolly. He wanted that sharp-witted, sharp-tongued girl… no, woman.

“Mirrim is a woman.” He stated aloud. She’s done being a girl.

Mirrim is done with her foster mother . . . no, Brekke was done. Done as a queen rider, done as a foster mother, done as a woman. Done. If he gave much thought to the faces of Manora, F’nor and Mirrim he was sure that Brekke was gone in all but body. He reached out to Monarth but his dragon slept. Nobody’s dragon would mention Brekke but T’gellan knew his dragon was trying to get her to speak to him. “Gentle Brekke, what happened to you was wrong.”

T’gellan sighed and slipped under the water and rose to work some sweetsand into his hair and neck. He felt along his jaw and thought he should shave. He reached for his kit and pulled out his blade. He dunked himself when he finished then slowly pulled himself out of the pool.

As he dried himself he looked at his clothing strewn around his sleeping quarters. He pulled a clean pair of pants from his press and hung up his outer gear beside his riding straps. It was one thing to throw his jacket and gloves on the floor; never his riding straps. He reached for his newest gather tunic and a lighter pair of boots. He used his dirty tunic to wipe off the bench and press. All other garments were kicked into the alcove for now. The last thing he did was shake out the fur on the bed before exiting to Monarth’s couch.

One lid opened over a blue tinged eye, slowly whirling, a brief wave of red shot through before the lid fell over it. _“I like Brekke’s dark one,”_ said Monarth.

“I like Brekke’s dark one too,” T’gellan replied.

One eye opened first one lid then the next. Shots of red and green swirled in the blue whirls. _“The dark one is sad at you; this is not right. The dark one has no joy for you.”_

“You most marvelous being.” T’gellan said. He reached over to the brow ridge and caressed gently. “You’ve been listening to Mirrim so you do know she still has joy for you.”

Soon only blue glittered in his eyes. _“Yes.”_ he replied, _“That is why I like Mirrim.”_

“Then get up you great bloody lunk and take me to the bowl. I’ll do my best to gain her joy for me back.”

He sauntered into the dining hall a bit late and stopped to talk to girls found on search for the queen egg before serving himself. By then he knew exactly where Mirrim and Menolly sat. They were beside the night cooking hearth. Their fire lizards lined along the wall or on a shoulder. They were deep in conversation as T’gellan slid his plate next to Mirrim who didn’t move away. Menolly was directly across from him but he studied the golden lump under her hair.

“So what are their names? Start with the little beauty on your shoulder.”

The little queen’s head popped out and watched him intently. Menolly stroked her golden and replied, “Beauty.” Both girls giggled.

“That you are,” he replied. He cut a piece of roast from his plate and skewered it at the end of his knife. Holding it in the air, he slowly moved it back and forth, enjoying how the little head swung with the motion. “Come take it, Beauty.”

The little golden crawled down Menolly’s arm, extending her neck towards the tip of his knife. Her back legs clung to her shoulder. He dipped the knife and she snatched the meat off the tip then sloped backed to her mistress’ shoulder. “How about that?!” T’gellan exclaimed while Menolly gasped.

Mirrim snorted. “Don’t be surprised. These greedy guts will eat what’s offered from anyone. But that doesn’t mean that they’ll look to whoever feeds them.” She sighed and gazed across the room and back to Menolly, “Besides, with nine . . .” Mirrim rolled her eyes.

T’gellan leaned in toward Menolly and said conspiratorially, “She’s jealous, so she is, Menolly.”

Mirrim elbowed him. “I am NOT. Three’s quite enough, though,” she regarded Beauty,” I would have liked a queen. Let’s see if Beauty will come to me. Grall does”.

Menolly shrugged her shoulder toward Mirrim, willing her golden to be fed by her friend’s hand.

“Here, Beauty.” Mirrim proffered a crust of bread soaked in the meat juices. Both girls’ plates were clean of food. Beauty cocked her head then turned away. Mirrim deftly sliced a chunk of meat off T’gellan’s plate. Down came his knife pinning it.

“Hey!” he protested. “That’s my dinner!”

“Just a little piece for the fire lizard; you can spare it.”

“Then take the fat.”

Menolly watched in fascination at the two sparred over the morsel of meat. Beauty became uninterested and she flew up to the mantle where five other fire lizards draped themselves.

“Well now, you ruined my chances to coax her, T’gellan.”

“You didn’t ever have a chance. Fire lizards don’t like to be bossed.”

Mirrim retorted. “More likely you didn’t want me to succeed.” She picked up the soggy bread crust ready to fling it at him.”

Menolly’s eyes flew open. She brought the snoozing brown fire lizardfrom her lap to the table and said quickly, “Here! Feed him; he’s probably hungry”. Mirrim wafted the bread under the fire lizard’s nose. He submissively opened his mouth and she dropped it in.

“And what’s this lazy bone’s name?” chuckled T’gellan.

“Lazybones,” replied Menolly then all three burst out laughing.

A few people looked over and smiled. T’gellan smiled back. It had been too subdued in the lower caverns since that terrible day. He saw one of the kitchen boys with an empty wineskin. “Galenan, are you fetching Oharan’s table more wine?”

“Yes, T’gellan. D’yer want a skin for yourself?”

“Aye, and three cups!” He yelled as the boy scurried down a back hallway. Mirrim regarded him sternly. He gave her a light shove on her shoulder. “Water yours down if you don’t trust it.”

“I should pour water on you, then,” she mumbled. T’gellan pretended not to hear.

Menolly had been surveying the room looking tired but content. “So Menolly, I have two of their names, what are the other seven?”

As she pointed and called out each by name, the respective fire lizard raised a head or flicked a tail. When the wine came, he poured a full cup for himself and Menolly and delivered a half cup to Mirrim.

“Drink up, good Benden wine is not to be refused,” he said. Menolly dutifully sipped. “There now, isn’t that the best you’ve ever tasted?” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mirrim take a sip too. He drained half his cup and topped off all three. He leaned back stretching his long legs under the table. Watching Menolly’s fingers tapping on the table, he noticed for the first time that her hand was deformed or perhaps injured. Then, he became aware that Oharan, the weyr Harper, was strumming his guitar. Menolly began humming, first the melody then a variation of it. Mirrim and his eyes met and they smiled.

“That was just lovely, Menolly,” Mirrim exclaimed. “Oharan? Come over here; Menolly has a new harmony for that one.”

Menolly looked stricken, “No, no, I couldn’t.”

T’gellan straightened. “Why not? A little music would give us all heart. There’s faces around here as long as a wet turn,” he explained, pouring her a bit more wine.

Oharan ambled over adjusting the strap on his guitar as he began the intro to the song he had just finished. As Menolly joined him on the second line, he nodded knowingly. Menolly’s voice was full and clear. She sang a descant on the chorus that he had never before heard. He recognized that this girl had been taught more than the rudimentary training. He praised her sense of pitch at the end of the song and she blushed prettily, ducking her head demurely. He asked her to harmonize on the Last Flight Ballad.

As they began in harmony more voices joined. Oharan looked around then up to see four of the fire lizards sitting back on their haunches, throats vibrating as they crooned in chords. It was wonderful. Their tonal patterns were so intricate that he couldn’t tell which ones were singing scales and which were holding whole notes. Two more fire lizards joined and the golden queen sailed down from her perch to land on Menolly’s shoulder and warbled the counter melody with her.

Others were watching their table. Some were coming over for a closer look. Mirrim began babbling, exclaiming and pointing at the fire lizards. Oharan shook his head at her but then T’gellan took her hand under the table and pulled her close. With a quick “shush” in her ear he moved back craning his head and couldn’t help exclaiming, “I don’t believe it!”

Oharan exhaled sharply during the bridge and said in a low voice, “Don’t scare them. Just let them do it.” As they came to the end of the song, Oharan caught Menolly’s eye. She had been watching him for the _ritarde_. He smiled as he noticed that the fire lizards were watching her. He nodded the last two chords and they ended together. It had been a while since the harper had sung with somebody so accomplished.

Spontaneous applause rippled throughout the room. Oharan bowed. T’gellan put a cup of wine in his hand. He toasted the audience, then bowed to Menolly and her fire lizards but the gesture was lost as Mirrim was speaking rapidly, demanding to know how she taught them to sing. Oharan drained his cup and handed it to T’gellan who absently filled it again. He was listening to the girls.

“Just shows that you don’t know all there is to know, doesn’t it, young Mirrim?” T’gellan teased. She picked up his hand under the table. She merely smiled directly at him as Menolly protested his jibe.

“HIC!”

“Hic,” Menolly, in utter embarrassment slapped her hands over her mouth.

“How much wine have you been giving her, T’gellan?” Mirrim accused as she rounded the table to pat her friend’s back.

“Certainly not enough to put her in her cups,” he replied as she hiccupped again.

“Get her some water!” Mirrim demanded. T’gellan obediently stepped over to the basin and dipped out some water and brought it back.

“Hold your breath,” Oharan suggested, slinging his guitar to his back as he came to Menolly’s other side.

As the others returned to their own conversations and tables, the trio administered to Menolly’s malady, giggling and berating each other. Poor Menolly tried to free herself from the attention, and stand to go to her room.

“You two numbwitts; move back and give her some air. You got her drunk, T’gellan. I’m taking her to her cube.” Mirrim put her arm around Menolly’s waist, urging her up.

Of one mind both Oharan and T’gellan stood to carry her. With Menolly lifted between them, T’gellan and Oharan managed to carry-walk her to her sleeping chamber. Mirrim kept up her harangue flinging the curtain open and deftly taking her from the men then sliding the curtain in front of them. Oharan giggled as he stepped back to return to the dining hall. T’gellan stood to the side of the curtain with a curious expression.

“What are you doing?” Oharan slurred. “C’mon, let’s go back and finish that exquisite Benden white”. T’gellan waved him off.

With keen Harper insight, Oharan’s eyebrows lifted, “She’s too young.”

“Which one?” T’gellan replied.

“Both!”

“Go on back to your wine, Harper,” T’gellan laughed. “Young Mirrim and I are about to come to an understanding.”

Oharan chuckled as he walked away. T’gellan continued to watch the curtain as he listened to female murmurs and rustling of bedding and clothing. Soon, he perceived the shielding of the glows then the curtain parted. Mirrim backed out then turned abruptly into T’gellan’s arms. He pulled her body close to his and pressed his lips to hers. She responded briefly then stiffened, pulling her head back.

“T’gellan! Let me go.” She demanded with enough acid to give T’gellan all the confidence he needed.

“Come to my weyr tonight,” He whispered beside her ear. He heard a sharp intake of breath then she trembled in his arms. He tightened his grip, pulling her head to his chest as he nuzzled her ear and whispered again “Come to my weyr tonight.”

“I, … I mustn’t, even if I wanted, I … don’t dare…” Mirrim’s voice was muffled into his chest but her arms circled around his waist. She pressed closer to him. “Tomorrow’ll .. “

“Tomorrow be flamed.” T’gellan interrupted. “You are not Brekke’s fosterling nor an apprentice headwoman, nor healer tonight. Tonight is for you, Mirrim.” He felt her body acquiesce into his so he lifted her into his arms, slightly surprised that she was heavier than her build suggested. “Tonight I am yours and I will be yours every night, if you will have me.” He walked more by feel down the back corridor into the dark bowl where a pair of opalescent eyes whirled a gentle greenish blue.


	5. Object of His Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pern and its inhabitants are the property of the late, great Ann McCaffrey. Most of these characters in this story are the creation of Ann McCaffrey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: A bit of citrus towards the end

T’gellan eyed the flight of stairs then proceeded down carefully with the weight in his arms. He tried to keep his pace steady but by the time he was to the landing in the bowl he was starting to puff and his legs were shaky.

“Can you put me down? I should walk.”

T’gellan replied, “You couldn’t have said that at the top of those stairs, Mirrim?”, as he set her on her feet.

She chuckled, “It’s what made me think I should walk; I didn’t want to break your concentration and we tumble.”

Hand in hand they ambled towards Monarth. He was facing them. He brought his great head to be level with Mirrim’s face. She reached above one jeweled eye and gently rubbed the brow ridge. T’gellan towed her into the darkness to mount. He ran one hand along his dragon’s neck until he felt the slope of his shoulder. “Step up” he said as he lifted Mirrim by the waist. With familiar ease she grabbed hold of the last neck ridge and hoisted herself behind it. T’gellan pulled up behind her and held her close. “Lean forward into Monarth’s neck”, he pause to mentally speak to his dragon, “Hang on.”

Monarth’s downs sweeps and glide were so fluid T’gellan was surprised they were at the mouth of his weyr. But then it could have been that he was holding the object of his desire so close to his chest. He slid down and she slid into him, stepping away for a moment to look across the lip of the darkened bowl.

“I had no idea your weyr was so high up.”

He stepped behind her rubbing his hands up and down the length of her arms. He felt her stiffen as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into him. “Are you having second thoughts?”

“I agreed to come; I’m not the sort to back out.”

They were silent. This was not how he envisioned this moment. As he felt the awkwardness of their silence grow, he let go of all but her hand and led her into his weyr. Monarth was already curled upon himself in his stony couch with his eyes closed. He sighed contentedly as they passed into the sleeping quarters. It was pitch-dark. He fumbled by the sconce to unsheild a glow. It bathed the room in a golden hue. His bed suddenly looked massive. She pulled her hand free then sat close to the head of his bed. Eyes cast down; Mirrim twined her fingers in her lap. T’gellan sat next to her. She stiffly leaned into him.

“I meant what I said, Mirrim,” he said after a pause. Putting an arm around her, he continued, “You’ve had a rough few sevendays. Tonight’s for you. Relax.”

She leaned back against the bed as he bent over her but he could tell she was still holding herself tightly. He leaned into her neck nuzzling her ear as his hand caressed her torso. “You won’t hurt me, T’gellan.” She whispered.

He pulled back, confused. “Of course I won’t”.

“No I mean it won’t hurt, I’m ….” She sighed, “I understand what I’m supposed to do when a dragonman takes me to his weyr, and … and I am thankful that it’s you.”

T’gellan stiffened, “Eh?” He stared across his room not focusing but trying to decipher Mirrim. He felt a mental shrug from Monarth. _“You want her; she is with you.”_

“ _Some help you are_ ,” he thought back. “ _Is Mirrim fearful of me?_ ”

“ _She fears but she has joy for us. She is with you; I sleep now._ ”

He thought he had the sense of her and started grinning. “Oh, you mean I’m not your first. That’s alright.” Although, he was a bit disappointed.

Her brow was still furrowed and she twisted away. “The women in the lower caverns were talking to me,” she said, “since I was new to Benden Weyr.”

“Um, who?” he tried to say evenly. His expectations for this evening were evaporating.

“Well, Manora of course, and there was Sanra, Felena… and Willa.” She turned to watch his face as she said the last name.

“Willa. Yes. She does like to teach.” He cleared his throat. “What did they say?” He tried to sound casual, but so much for being the rider of a mighty bronze.

“Manora wanted me to know that dragonmen might be interested in me because I was a new to the Weyr. She wanted to be sure I, uh, that I …” She faltered, looked to him then quickly away.

T’gellan realized that he had taken her hand and was nodding his head stupidly. He shifted closer to her. “Manora is our headwoman. I am sure what she said …What did Willa tell you?”

“She wanted to know if I was familiar with… if I had been…” Mirrim paused, took a deep breath and blurted, “She said that if a dragonman did ask me to his weyr that I be honest enough to tell him if he would hurt me. Tell him if I was too young. Am I too young?”

“Willa, Sanra and Felena are women who are attached to men in my wing. I’m sure they spoke to you because they know I’ve taken an interest in you.” T’gellan said. He had been certain that no other man in the Weyr had thought to have her in his bed. Something more bothered Mirrim, of that he was becoming aware. “They are only looking out for you and me.”

“Brekke always told me that the women of a weyr couldn’t expect attachments like a holder or crafter especially a bronze rider.”

“But you’re weyrbred.”

“No. Not really. I came from The Farm Crafthall.” She paused while he waited for her to continue. He nudged her gently. “Brekke took to fostering me when I was about nine turns. I lived at Southern with her until we were moved to High Reaches, then … here. Brekke was searched from the same hall, the Masterfarmcrafter’s.” She regarded him keenly. “You know the weyr folk told her that as a queen’s rider she shouldn’t foster a child.”

“You were more her apprentice than daughter,” he replied because he thought he should say something.

She leaned back into him. “I need to tell you this even though Brekke said I should never tell anyone. The reason she took me from the Crafthall and kept me was because I had been left to die.”

T’gellan was astounded. He turned her to face him, “How could they do such a thing to a girl of nine turns?”

“I was… I had been …” Mirrim moved away a bit from him. She looked ready to cry. She breathed deeply a few times shaking her head then faced him. “One of the Masters would take me alone to the nurseries …”

T’gellan felt a stab of revulsion. He stood and paced the length of the bed then stopped in front of her. “He violated you?” Mirrim looked down to her hands and nodded. “This is why you were sentenced to death? Didn’t they do anything to him?”

“His throat was slit in front of the entire Crafthold. Farmcrafters do not hold with such behavior.”

“Nobody does,” T’gellan interjected, gesturing to the ceiling.

“And because I had not cried out or told anybody I was shunned.” Mirrim raised her head back up and stared across the room, her eyes focused on the horror in her past. “It was after thread started falling. I was taken up to a field that had been threaded and left there, told never to come back. Thread was due that day but Brekke and Wirenth landed before me and said ‘ _Come’_ so I left with them to Southern. Brekke said that it was a hard time for halls and holds. Too many people to shelter, entire fields and groves destroyed. Masterfarmer Andemon had to control his people…,” she faltered.

T’gellan sat close to her and slid his arm over her shoulder pulling her close again. As he absently caressed her shoulder, he mulled over her revelations. Kissing her hair he rested his chin on her head. He had to admit to himself that this didn’t change his feelings for her.

“Maybe you should take me back to the lower caverns now,” she said to fill the silence between them. “I’ll have to figure out where I’ll go, once…”

“Mirrim, Weyrs don’t cast out their people, especially Benden…”

“No, I mean once Brekke,” Mirrim’s voice cracked. “Brekke” she repeated then dissolved into tears. With some exertion T’gellan pulled her into his lap, cradling and rocking her as she cried.

The center of this girl’s life was shredded. She’d been uprooted from Southern Weyr to High Reaches without so much as half a sevenday when Wirenth rose, and fought and died between. Then she was here in Benden, among strangers, now to hear about this atrocity against her and her self-imposed shame. She was at Benden because of Brekke. Brekke the gentle, the dutiful, the repressed; she had raised Mirrim from childhood and had been her model. She was craftbred and would leave if Brekke died, when she died, which could be soon. He felt a pang in his gut at the thought of her not being at Benden. He was surprised that he was actually crooning until he realized her fire lizards were as well for they had found the two of them and were trying to crawl onto her lap or at least press up against her.

She had stopped crying and was simply letting him hold her. It was a comfortable silence and he knew if he spoke he’d ruin the moment. He had always admired her intelligence and resilience plus that wicked, sharp wit. But now he saw how tightly she bound her true feelings; her real self. Mirrim was trying to be dutiful, even now but was inhibited. He thought back to his convalescence in Sothern, he grinned and stopped rocking.

She turned a blotchy face to him and he kissed her gently. As she responded they became more intense. She snaked one arm around his neck to reposition herself but Tolly trilled. He was being smothered between them. T’gellan moved his head back to look into Mirrim’s sea green eyes and remembered the first time they had regarded each other. It would have been simple to push her back on the furs and love her but he understood now; she wasn’t ready.

"How does a soak in the pool sound?” He grinned as her genuine surprise melted into her quirky grin. She hopped off his lap and gazed around the room.

"Behind that curtain?” she asked, pointing. “Will it fit two people and three fire lizards?”

He had stood too and walked to the hooks pulling off his tunic in one fluid movement and hung it on the hook next to his towel and a basket of shielded glows. As he handed them to her he noticed that she was gazing upon his bare chest. “Here,” he said. “Go through that curtain. You’ll see that it will fit all of us. Go in on the side with the pot of sweet sands; it is shallow enough to sit. I’ll wait here a moment.”

She unhitched the glow basket’s shield then proceeded through. The two green fire lizards followed her. He waited for her to undress and slip into the water but he wasn’t sure when that was because of the greens’ cavorting and splashing. She giggled then sighed with an “ahhhhh”.

T’gellan pulled off the rest of his clothes, careful to hang them up. Tolly chittered as he glided past him when he parted the curtain. He toyed with making his usual splash but thought better of it. Instead he walked past where she had seated herself to where he knew the water was at its deepest then hopped off the lip up to his neck. He dunked under, swimming to where she sat. He came up beside her and sat on his underwater bench.

The three fire lizards were cavorting at the other end of the pool where the water tended to be a bit too hot for humans.

They regarded each other. Her severe bun was loose and a few wet tendrils curled about her neck. “Take your hair down. It looks like it’ll come down anyway”.

“I already did but put it back up. If I get it wet now; it’d still be damp in the morning.” She replied. “Ramoth’s eggs could hatch any day. Hatchings are hectic enough without adding any more discomfort …”

“Hmmm, you’re thinking about more than damp hair.”

“Yes,” she paused. “When the eggs hatch, a lot of speculation can end.”

“So you think Brekke will re-impress.”

“It’s not what I think or want. I don’t believe it is a good idea. And, I think she’s too weak to even stand on the sands. It would queer the whole hatching if she died right there.”

T’gellan hid his shock with that statement realizing Mirrim had had more time and insight to ponder. “Nobody will speak of her but she’s at the forefront of our minds since she was brought here”, he replied. “It doesn’t take a healer to know she’s failing to regain her mind.”

“That’s not true,” Mirrim refuted. “She’s there! Her mind is clear. All the dragons and fire lizards tell us so. She just won’t respond or eat or drink or use the chamber pot. Not that she’s had any use for one in almost a sevenday! We’ll hold her down and force water and cold broth right into her stomach. It’s ghastly, she has even stopped resisting. And I have to keep talking to her, nonstop, when it’s my turn to care for her. F’nor looks like a shadow and Manora! Manora, it’s killing her. That serenity of hers is a ruse; she’s a wreck because she can’t convince F’nor to rest or tend to Canth and she worries she’ll lose them all. Brekke is the most horrible patient I have ever had. I’ll never get to tell her that and I so want to shake her, slap her, tell her to stop being so …”

“Selfish?”

"Pathetic! She’d never allow this kind of behavior of me!” Mirrim stopped for a breath.

All three fire lizards had halted their frolicking during her tirade then began diving again. The two humans watched them in silence for a few moments. Mirrim hugged her knees to her chin then turned her head towards T’gellan who was comfortably sprawled against the rocky wall.

“I don’t know if she’ll re-impress. It’s really Lessa’s idea. So we have no choice but to go through with it. I think it will kill her.”

T’gellan scooted over until they were touching. He draped his arm around her. He tried to think of what to say, not realizing his silence was the best response. Tolly shot out of the depth of the other side of the pool and landed neatly on the rim. He flapped his wings to dry then nosed under the curtain. “Is that wet fire lizard going to lie on my furs?”

“Probably not, Mirrim replied with a small giggle. “He’s off for other diversions. Those two greens gang up on him, especially Reppa.” She shrugged herself closer to him, “This is nice, this bath. It’s bigger than the bathing rooms in the lower caverns.”

“Really? I’ve never been in them.” T’gellan paused then chuckled. “I really hadn’t spent much time in the lower caverns at least not since I impressed Monarth.”

“Huh,” Mirrim replied. “I’d have thought. You did know the back hall to the bowl. I was surprised you took it.”

“That’s the same hall that continues to the Council Rooms”.

“Oh” was all Mirrim said.

The other two fire lizards flitted out of the water, flapping themselves dry and nosing under the curtain. “I suppose I won’t have much more time here to learn all the lower caverns either.” She continued.

“What are you talking about?” He pulled forward to look straight at her face.

“After Brekke.” She replied in matter-of fact voice. “I suppose I’ll be returned to High Reaches since Healer Goren was my Craftmaster and that is my assigned Weyr. Either that or petition the Healer Hall. I can’t return to my birthplace or Southern.”

“I think you should stay in Benden with me”.

Mirrim snorted, “Be serious, T’gellan. You’re a bronze rider.”

“Yes, Yes I am,” he avowed. “I have my choice of women and I have thought on none but you since I woke to you tending my shoulder”.

Mirrim looked at the scar that ran from under his clavicle to his armpit. She stretched her hand out and caressed it lightly. “It healed well. Do you remember me crawling between you and Monarth?” She looked into his eyes. He shook his head with renewed wonder. “Brekke said that Keth’s foreclaw was deep in your shoulder and that I was the only one small enough with the skill to slide the claw out and to hold a compress to your wound without damaging either of you more.”

“Once I started crawling up Monarth, I kept thinking, ‘great bronze dragon, forgive me for walking on you’ and then he spoke to me! He was the first a dragon besides Wirenth to speak to me. Do you know what he said?” She smiled at him as T’gellan shook his head. “He said ‘little dark one, save them. Pull Keth’s claw from inside my rider’s jacket.’ So I crawled under you and undid your jacket and cut your tunic to get to the wound. Monarth talked to me the whole time and he heard my every thought. There was so much ichor and I had to practically hug you to hold your wound from gaping.”

“I didn’t know that.” T’gellan replied, “Sneaky dragon.”

“When you spoke to me that first time, you sounded exactly like Monarth. I wasn’t supposed to fraternize with the patients but I truly liked your dragon, and you. Oh, Brekke was shocked at my behavior when she saw us together.” Mirrim paused. “I’ve never told anyone about Monarth speaking to me until now.”

T’gellan laughed and she joined him. He stepped away from the bench pulling her with him into the deep of the pool. Holding her head and shoulders above the water he kissed her gently. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself to him as he slowly swayed in the water. His hands slid down her back to grasp her rounded buttocks. He moved her legs to wrap around his waist and they stayed in that embrace until her grip calmed.

“You held me like this?”

“Tighter.” She gave his body a squeeze “and you didn’t hug back”.

“I’m hugging back now,” he replied giving her a squeeze as well, then spinning her. Her confessions he would keep precious and secret. Monarth spoke to her and Wirenth had too, he realized. I wonder if any other dragons do. Monarth calls her ‘dark one’. She’s all freckles on pale skin. Brekke’s dark one, he corrected himself. With sudden clarity he understood. Without Brekke, who was Mirrim? Could she fit in at Benden? He saw her posturing in a new light. She was trying to fit and found herself lacking. She fit perfectly with him, he decided. “Come what may, I want you to stay at Benden; I’ll make sure of it. Agreed?”

“Can I continue healercraft?”

“There’s no question you will. And, I’ll see about a weyr closer to the bowl.”

“And lose this pool? NEVER!”

Laughing, he spun with her one more time before walking up the steps of the pool. Mirrim set her feet down when the water was to his waist. They waded, hand in hand, out of the pool. She reached for the towel which he took from her and wrapped the both of them.

They walked back into the sleeping quarters. T’gellan pulled the comb from her hair which cascaded to the middle of her back. He pulled a few strands through his fingers marveling at how the glows caught the streaks of honey through the chestnut tresses. Abruptly he swept her off her feet and laid her on top of the furs. He raised himself over her on his hands and knees.

“T’gellan?”

“Shhhh” he answered as he kissed her lips quiet. “It’s my turn to tend to you. Be easy.”

It was important to T’gellan that she felt not just pleasure but exquisitely so. Bringing all that Willa had taught him and innumerable, pleasurable and casual encounters, he nuzzled her neck and lightly bit at her shoulder as one hand cupped her breast. Some need within him was answered by this lippy, acerbic young woman. And, his dragon called her by name. He felt Monarth’s presence as a joy. He seemed to intimate “ _Finally!”_

“I can feel Monarth; he’s with us,” Mirrim gasp.

He tasted deeply of her, working to bring her body to delight when he felt the pull in his loins. He had been certain that the long soak in hot water would prevent him. It had been his plan. When she cried out, arching her back he lurched forward. Their hips fumbled until he found her warm embrace. They wrestled together, Mirrim with abandon and T’gellan with ferocity. His tension burst suddenly. Almost violently he pushed her into the furs and gave a few more thrusts before collapsing on top of her. Her hips continued to move in erratic spasms. Eventually their breaths return to normal. T’gellan pushed back on his elbows and looked upon his lover, soft in her exhaustion. Her eyes were closed but she looked the most relaxed he had ever seen her.

“I didn’t mean for us to go this far, at least not tonight.” He started to say.

She opened her eyes, they looked depthless, “I’m glad we did.”

“Am I too heavy?”

She clasped her hands around the small of his back “No, stay.”

“I’ll stay forever.”

“ _Forever._ ”

“Do you doubt us anymore, that we want you to stay?” T’gellan asked when she smiled at the dragon’s response.

Her smile broadened.

He rolled off the bed and stood. “Let’s get beneath the furs and get some sleep.” Mirrim stood too. He yanked the damp towel to the floor and pulled the fur back. She shook her head and proceeded to hang it up. While she returned to the bathing room for the glow basket and her clothes, T’gellan slipped beneath the covers. She returned holding her clothes over one arm and the glow basket in the other. She put her clothes on the press then walked to the sconce to shield the glow. She set the basket on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed to plait her hair. Then she crawled in with him. Once she was comfortably curled into his chest she shielded the glow basket. T’gellan was already asleep.

She thought towards her fire lizards. Their presence was felt and she had the sensation that all three of her fire lizards were tucked against Monarth, fast asleep. “ _Monarth?_ ” she tried thinking to the great bronze dragon on the other side of the curtain. “ _Monarth, will you wake us predawn?_ ”

_"We will wake before light. Sleep now, little one._ ”


	6. Brekke's Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter coincides with Jaxom's impression of Ruth and the discovery that Menolly is the lost Apprentice.

“ _Wake_ ”

Abruptly T’gellan sat up, “ _Why? What? Monarth! It’ still dark!_ ”

“ _Mirrim needs to go to the kitchens._ ”

T’gellan shook his head then realized he was not alone in his bed. In a rush, memories from the night before descended upon him. He patted the warm companion in his bed and smiled. He had never had a woman stay until morning in his weyr before. He lay back against her and folded her into his arms. “Mirrim, we need to get up.”

The drowsy form shrugged, stretched against him then suddenly stiffened. T’gellan laughed aloud. He was certain that she usually woke alone too. “Monarth says you are needed in the kitchens.”

“T’gellan?” she said groggily, “Are they hatching?” In the darkness he could hear her fumbling then bright light invaded the room. He had never thought to put the glow basket next to the bed. He’d simply grope around for the wall sconce. Besides, he was not accustomed to being awake before light showed around the curtain. Mirrim rose, pulling the fur with her. T’gellan had no such modesty as he bounded over her to the hooks and began dressing. When he finished he turned to her. She was lacing the bodice over her tunic. Then she slipped on her skirt.

“Where’s my comb?” she asked as she pulled out the plaits of her braid. T’gellan spotted it on the floor and brought it to her. As she reached to take it he pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head.

“It’s too bad we don’t have time to take another soak before facing today, eh?”

“Oh if only there was time,” she said stepping away as she twirled her hair up and deftly poked it with the comb.

“Tonight then? Take another soak with me tonight?” A tremor went through the walls of the weyr. “Ramoth!” T’gellan said, “You called it; hatching’s today”.

As he took her elbow to escort her to his dragon, Mirrim suddenly reached for him and hugged him fiercely. T’gellan gladly hugged her back. He waited to see if she’d cry again. Instead she sighed mightily and said, “That was the best sleep I got since Southern.”

He could hear nothing but her breathing which seemed labored. He loosened his grip as he felt her look up. ”I’m so scared, T’gellan. I’ve tried to anticipate this day and now it’s here.”

“We’ve both got plenty of work to do before eggs start cracking. We’ll keep busy until,” he shrugged, “… come what may. Do you want me to come for you when it starts?”

“No, I’ll be with Brekke and F’nor by then. But, take Menolly. She’s never been to a hatching.”

They walked arm in arm through the curtain. T’gellan instinctively grabbing the riding straps as they exited. Monarth was already on the lip. Two slowly swirling yellow eyes turned to them. T’gellan moved about his dragon, fitting the straps while Mirrim stepped to the edge facing east where the sky was lightening from deep purple to indigo.

“C’mon,” T’gellan called from his dragon. Mirrim stepped to him taking his hand and sitting behind him. Monarth raised his wings then lifted before swooping to the bowl’s floor. They both dismounted quickly. T’gellan made for the breakfast hearth while Mirrim ran to the back kitchens.

N’ton sat at one of the tables where Willa was placing cups and a pot of klah. She had just finished pouring him a cup when she spied T’gellan approaching. She grinned widely as she filled another cup and pressed it to him. He tried to ignore her but he reddened as he sat opposite N’ton.

N’ton looked up briefly then smiled, “Ah, up already!”

“I thought you were re-assigned to Fort,” answered T’gellan as he sat opposite his former Wingleader.

“I’m assigning riders to pick up guests. F’lar wants to make it a big to-do. F’nor’s a bit occupied and I was …available. Do you have any preference of Hall or Craft?”

“Anybody but the Farmcraft.” He replied taking a sip of the hot klah.

 

# # #

 

Mirrim walked purposely toward the kitchen. Manora, looking haggard and overtired, approached her with uncharacteristic concern. “Where have you been? Hatching’s today. I need to get up to F’nor and Brekke but there’s Menolly’s feet to check and the baking. You were not at F’nor’s weyr or your cubicle.”

“I stayed with T’gellan last night.”

Manora stopped, mouth agape, and then shrugged. “Wake Menolly and prepare her for the day. I will be in shortly to check her feet. Then, the two of you report to Felena.” Manora walked past her shaking her head.

The morning was full of bustle. Guests arrived and were fed. The women of the caverns were too full of impression talk and skirting around Brekke’s fate to gossip too much although Sanra and Felena smiled broadly at Mirrim each time they saw her. When the thrumming began, she ran to F’nor’s weyr. Between the two of them they managed to wash Brekke, arrange her hair and don the traditional white flowing gown for impression. They tried to make her walk then F’nor lifted her and carried her down the back hall to the hatching grounds. Manora met them before the opening. Fear suddenly gripped Mirrim. She hung back, afraid to watch. Instead she cowered on the floor with her fingers in her ears.

 

# # #

 

T’gellan and his wingsecond, S’kel, had finished depositing the candidates and were pleased to be in the upper tiers awaiting hatching. They sat with their wing as a skin of wine was passed around. Good-natured wagering had begun for candidates; what egg and what color dragon would hatch first. T’gellan was not as dedicated a gambler as most of his companions.

S’kel turned to him and asked,”Care to lay odds on first color?” He rolled a few marks in his hand. Behind them, they heard somebody exclaim, “Five to one on her re-impressing.” Both men turned to see who would make such a callous remark. The men behind them became quiet until another voice called, “What are the odds that our wingleader impressed young Mirrim?”

T’gellan guffawed among the others’ laughter. S’kel punched his shoulder good-naturedly. “Shut up.” Both men turned back to the drama below them.

For the first time since they parted that morning, T’gellan thought about Mirrim and wondered where she was. He wanted to speak to Manora about her but now was not the time. So much depended on Brekke and a queen that was about to hatch. With renewed interest he leaned forward and waited in the sudden hush with the rest of the crowd.

 

It was early evening and well into the festivities before T’gellan had glimpsed Mirrim. She was in deep conversation with Menolly by the same back hearth as the night before. As he was making his way through the revelers to them, Lessa detained him.

“Here is the list of the fire lizard eggs’ recipients,” she said, passing a scroll to him. He opened it up, immediately recognizing F’lar’s meticulous scrawl. “Will you help the girls distribute them?”

“Of course,” he agreed with a smile but by the time he looked to the back hearth, Mirrim was gone. He needed to apologize to Menolly anyway for not returning to her after the impression but wingleaders were called to quick council over the boy Lord of Ruatha impressing a white dragon. T’gellan shook his head and proceeded. With Brekke recovering, there was plenty of time for his plans with Mirrim.

It was very late when he returned from yet the strangest twist to the day. Menolly and her nine fire lizards had left with Master Robinton for the Harper Hall. He had deposited them just outside the square at FortHold in the late afternoon of the west. Mirrim would miss her. Monarth landed on the lip of their weyr. T’gellan thought to him, “ _I wanted to go to the bowl._ ”

“ _She sleeps_ ,” was Monarth’s reply.

T’gellan removed the straps and hung them absently on their hook in the dark room. He stripped down and crawled beneath the furs. As he nestled in, he breathed her scent from where she slept the night before. With a sigh he rolled over and dropped off to sleep.

In the lower caverns, Mirrim tossed on her cot so much that her fire lizards had left. Brekke would live. She would need care for several sevendays. Mirrim had watched Monarth leap to the air with the Masterharper and Menolly when she had returned to apologize. She decided that as much as she’d like to wait for T’gellan’s return, she was better off sleeping with only herself this night. They hadn’t so much as looked at each other since leaving his weyr that morning. Too many weyrfolk smiled at her knowingly today. It bothered her. She knew exactly when Monarth and T’gellan returned. “ _I’m sleeping,_ ” she thought to the dragon but it evaded her until deep into the night.

 

# # #

 

Thread was expected mid-afternoon over Bitra. T’gellan was early to the hall fully dressed for fall. Mirrim was carrying a bowl of meat scraps and a pot of Klah. She deposited the pot at the head of an empty table already set with mugs. He met her by the usual feeding place but only her three were present. Tolly flew to his forearm rubbing his head under T’gellan’s chin a few times before accepting a morsel.

“What a hatching,” he said to break the silence.

Mirrim turned to him with a brief smile. “She’s going to live. I think F’nor and Manora are still sleeping themselves out”.

“Did you hear about Menolly?”

“I saw you taking her and the Masterharper away late last night. He thought her singing that good or does he covet her singing fire lizards?” Mirrim shook her head. “I was looking forward to a girl my age, for a friend.”

“Menolly is the missing apprentice that harpers have been looking for this last Turn. She was excited to go but you two didn’t get the chance to say good bye to each other.”

Mirrim shrugged. “Perhaps I’ll send Reppa with a note after she settles in.” Mirrim picked up the bowl and turned to go. T’gellan held her arm. As the two gazed into each other’s eyes they both nodded at the same time. “Tonight,” she added with the briefest of smiles then walked past the tables of gathering riders.

That evening, shortly after sharing a meal with his wing and their partners, they walked out of the dining hall holding hands. The acceptance of their gifted young leader’s attachment to Mirrim seemed absolute. Monarth deposited them on the lip of his weyr then flew to the heights. Three fire lizards appeared on the lip, eyes spinning blue. “Looks like company for our soak,” T’gellan remarked.

“Do you mind?” Mirrim turned to him, “I’ve neglected them badly the past few sevendays.”

He smiled his answer as he patted her back and pushed her through to his room. “I need to soak off the firestone and ash,” he said as he pulled the curtain aside. Two green and one brown streak shot through and dove into the warm waters. He kicked off his boots and followed them. She trailed him into the bath chamber watching him struggle to pull his tunic over his head.

“Is your shoulder bothering you?” she asked as she came behind him to help. “Hold still.”

“I can get my own shirt off.” He replied as he tried to step away.

“Hold STILL. What did you do to your neck?”

T’gellan paused. “How can you tell?”

“Really?” Mirrim replied as she managed to get his head free and began tackling the ties at his wrists. “Hold still or I’ll never get these untied. This would have been easier if you had untied them before pulling your shirt off.”

T’gellan looked down on the crown of her head as she bent to the task. He tentatively moved his neck right and left. “Why do you say my neck?”

“Could be your shoulder. Again, what did you do?”

“Bit of a wind during fall. I wasn’t ready for a drop. It doesn’t feel like my neck but across my back,” T’gellan rotated each shoulder until he felt a twinge in his right.

Mirrim had the tunic off. With a snap she had turned it back from inside-out and flung it over her shoulder. “Turn.” He complied. She pressed under both shoulder blades with her thumbs and worked them up following the bones until they reached his neck. With light pinches along the nape of his neck and across his shoulders, her hand felt his muscles until he groaned. “Ah, there,” she said and applied greater pressure. When she stopped, he rolled both shoulders again.

“Much better!” He unhooked his belt to let his pants drop and stepped into the pool. Slowly he eased himself onto his underwater bench leaning back into the rock. “Been thinking of this all day.” He said after a while, closing his eyes and sinking until the water was to his chin.

She returned to his bed chamber to hang up his clothes and remove hers. Picking up the towel and glow basket she returned, closing the curtain. What little light the sconce glow had given was gone with the exception of six fire lizard eyes. She undid the latch to the basket relighting the chamber. T’gellan hadn’t moved. She laid the towel on an outcrop and put the basket on the floor. She sat apart from him trying to regain the calm she had felt the last time in his pool.

T’gellan turned to look at her and smiled lazily. “My back and neck feel so much better.”

Mirrim returned his smile. “Let me get behind you and I’ll give your back a proper massage.” He scooted forward but she didn’t have enough room. He edged further forward feeling the drop off at his feet.

“Hold onto my neck,” T’gellan suggested as he grabbed her legs in piggyback fashion and moved the two of them down the pool to a broader shelf where she could sit cross-legged. The fire lizards moved to their spot, splashing, crooning and chattering. Once settled behind him she kneaded his back and upper arms.

“Where did you learn to give such wonderful rubs?” T’gellan asked admiringly.

“I’m practicing to be a healer, you know. I practiced on you when you were in Southern.”

T’gellan chuckled. “What you did to my arm and shoulder in Southern was torture.”

She gave the affected shoulder a shove. “You have full use of it, thanks to my torture.” She ran her hand from the scar in the armpit to his waist, giggling when he cringed.

“That tickles!” he complained.

“It also means that you healed with no damage. Still think of my ministrations as torture?“

“Everything about you is exquisite torture.” He replied turning to pull her into his lap.

 

# # #

 

A few days later Brekke rejoined the people of the weyr. The next restday, there was a Gather at Fort. T’gellan planned to take Mirrim as she had said that she’d never been to one. He was anticipating the moment when the two of them surprised Menolly at the Harper Hall. This day, he was looking forward to sweep-ride exercises with his wing as he ambled into the hall for his breakfast. They were going to practice catching dragons dropping out of between with simulated injuries. The ‘Keth Catch’ the maneuver was called.

He was seated alone working the lists of his wing men when he looked up to see the still-skeletal face of Brekke seated before him. Her eyes bore into him. “I want you to leave Mirrim alone,” she said, simply.

T’gellan rose in his chair to his full height. He felt resentment rise in him until Monarth spoke to his mind, “ _Calm_ ”, was all the advice Monarth would give.

“I will not.”

“She is too young to be associating with riders, especially bronzes.” She had not blinked nor broken contact with his eyes. It was unnerving.

“I am the only bronze rider she’s associating with.”

Brekke continued to stare into him. “Mirrim has other duties; other plans and you are hindering her,” Brekke replied with the same, low, composed voice.

“ _CALM, CALM,_ ” Monarth bugled his advice. Several other dragons bugled back. T’gellan had grabbed the underside of the table to keep from rising. He could tell that Manora and Mirrim were approaching, concern on their faces.

Brekke leaned forward, “You satisfied your curiosity. Let her be.”

“You know nothing of us if that’s what you think. What do you have against me, Brekke?” his voice growled.

In almost a whisper, Brekke breathed, “Move. On.”

She leaned back into her seat as both Manora and Mirrim flanked her. “Are you tired, Brekke?” Mirrim asked as she put one hand on her frail shoulder and the other on her forehead. Brekke’s eyes had not left his.

Manora sat next to Brekke and rubbed an emaciated hand. She glanced between the two of them. “Mirrim, take Brekke back to the looms.”

T’gellan shifted his gaze to Manora turning his head. As soon as he had looked away from those mesmerizing eyes he knew he had lost the struggle of wills. Brekke allowed herself to be guided away by her foster daughter.

“ _Be calm; we can wait. Mirrim waits too._ ”

“ _I don’t understand_ ,“ T’gellan thought back. “ _The entire weyr has accepted us. What possible reason could Brekke have against us? Against you?_ ”

Manora waited until T’gellan’s focus returned, indicating his internal conversation with his dragon had concluded. “T’gellan, as much as I disagree with Brekke, perhaps you and Mirrim should stay apart a while. Only until she’s stronger and can think more clearly.”

“I don’t think I can, Manora, I’ve waited for her two turns already.”

“Mirrim can,” Manora replied, “She understands her duty to her foster mother. All I am asking you to do is wait. Wait until Brekke can see the devotion the two of you have for each other. If you have it now, you will have it in a month or two”.

T’gellan glared at her but Manora rose then turned toward the work rooms. He stared across the filling hall. Shaking off the chill that shot down his back he returned to his lists.

“ _I love you_.” Monarth avowed.

“ _As I do you,_ ” he returned the thought.

T’gellan tried to intercept Mirrim the rest of the day but she evaded him. Finally, he waited in her cube. When she stepped behind the curtain and uncovered the glow, she was not at all surprised to see him. “You can’t stay,” she said as they embraced.

“I just want this moment,” he replied and he rested his chin on the top of her head. “I don’t understand but I will comply with your wishes”.

She hugged him tighter as he rocked her back and forth, “They’re hers; not mine.”

“I’m not giving you up.”

“ _Nor I._ ”

She stifled a sob and he tried to hold her closer. He hefted a powerful sigh then pushed her back to look into her eyes. They were dry but regretful. “T’gellan, you’ll have to take care of Monarth. I’ll understand...” Her arms fell to her sides in a silent assent.

“You’re staying at Benden. We will see each other every day. If you ever have doubts, all you have to do is look into my eyes or listen for Monarth to know this dragonman loves you. We’re not that easy to forget.” He dropped his arms then marched from the cube.

At the end of the hall, stood Willa, leaning against the stone wall. He stumped by her and down the stairs to where his dragon had just landed. She watched as they rose in the air and winked out. Shaking her head she paused by Mirrim’s curtain. Not a peep, not a sob, not a sound.

T’gellan and Monarth had popped out of between above Half Circle Sea Hold. The night was clear and the phosphorescence of the waves caressing the shore lent a faint glow that stretched to the Dragon Stones. Monarth glided to one with the flattest top and perched. Both looked out to sea where a waning Belior was rising. They watched her rise above the horizon in silence.

Suddenly the wild fire lizards appeared in unison, agitated. They darted among the Dragon Stones, frenzied. Multiple images of the red star, closer than any image he could have imagined, invaded his mind.

“ _Monarth_!” he called aloud. “ _Why are they frightened?_ ”

Monarth alighted and flew straight up. His mind as agitated as the fire lizards. T’gellan tightened his straps as Monarth continued to climb to the higher levels where riders tended to black out. “ _Stop rising, level out!_ ”

Monarth obeyed. “ _It is wrong, it is wrong to go to it; RAMOTH! Call them back!_ ”

T’gellan, knowing fear was overwhelming his dragon let his training kick in. “ _Call my wing, call them to my mark. He concentrated on the dark masses of land and sea below him._ ”

Monarth bellowed.

Unbidden, the thought exploded into their minds, “DON’T LEAVE ME.”

They knew it was Brekke and she could only be calling to F’nor and Canth. What have they done? They had done the impossible! His wing appeared in perfect formation around them, not a rider to be seen.

“ _Monarth, where are they? Where are the riders?_ ”

“ _No time. We go_ ”

“ _Right! Straight up!_ ” T’gellan bellowed as well as gave the signal.

As one the wing soared up to the tumbling mote high above them.


	7. The Path That Leads To Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pern and its inhabitants are the property of the late, great Ann McCaffrey. The settings, the locations and most of these characters in this story are the creation of Ann McCaffrey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I altered the hatching at Benden depicted in Dragon Drums. Ramoth can’t have all the clutches if there are two other queens at Benden Weyr.

T’gellan stepped to the lip of his new weyr with a cup of hot klah in his hand. It had direct access to the bowl as was fitting for a wingleader of his renown. His wing, that had drilled in mid air rescue that day was lauded throughout the weyrs after the dramatic rescue of F’nor and Canth’s ill-fated jump to the Red Star. He had been the only rider aloft to direct thousands of dragons.

The sun had not cleared the lip of the bowl to shine down on him yet but the sky was clear and promised to be a warm day. Monarth poked his head out beside T’gellan. Moving his cup to his other hand he caressed the great bronze’s nose and cheek then under his jaw. Monarth crooned.

Across the bowl, Mirrim stepped out on the landing to the infirmary, looked up to them and waved. T’gellan waved back. Monarth warbled.

Their relationship over the past two turns had been comfortable but a bit trying. She and Brekke had spent most of it caring for F’nor and Canth. Both had been badly burned and Mirrim moved to F’nor’s weyr to spell Brekke who was recovering herself from the loss of Wirenth. The move to the infirmary was fairly recent. He had convinced her to come to his weyr a few times, usually after Monarth had failed to catch a queen on a mating flight or Brekke was out of the Weyr. It rankled him that she appeared to come to him out of a sense of duty than because she wanted to be with him. But once together, she dropped that ridiculous dutiful act, and became the ideal woman for him.

“F _or US!_ ” Monarth reminded him as he lumbered onto the lip then sprang to the air. He watched his dragon angle toward the lake that was sparkling in the sun. Three fire lizards shot out from the lower caverns to join him. T’gellan looked into his cup, now sprayed with sand. He dumped it over the side. Sighing he stepped back into his weyr.

Arwith’s clutch lay on the hatching grounds. Monarth had flown her well, 21 eggs. No queen egg among them but then Benden had enough at the moment and this was her first clutch. He hadn’t managed to evade Talina after that first night; she was persistent. After a few evening meals with both women present, Mirrim had retreated to her studies at the infirmary. He had stayed a few nights in Talina’s weyr and he stood with her for the official count. She fully expected him to stand with her when they hatched, even presenting him with a new tunic for the event.

“Might be today,” he said to the walls as he looked at the white garment with its garish, ornate stitching around the neck.

 

# # #

 

Monarth landed by Arwith after T’gellan had deposited his last guest on the tiers. T’gellan slid off. Both dragons touched noses then Monarth lifted to the shelf above her and trumpeted over the results of his prowess.

Talina turned a triumphant smile upon T’gellan which immediately turned to a frown. “Where is your new tunic?” she demanded.

“There wasn’t time. I’m here, aren’t I?” he retorted as he dropped his jacket on a nearby outcrop. She clucked her tongue and retrieved the coat, hanging it on a peg in the alcove behind them. One of the eggs rocked violently which brought everyone’s attention to the hatching grounds. The candidates had just arrived. Talina grabbed his hand and pulled him forward, excitement shining from her dark eyes.

She had let her raven hair down and it waved in an obsidian curtain as she tossed it to her back. Although not the white tunic of impression, her dress suggested it. Heavily ornamented about the neckline and belted in finely-tooled, back leather, she looked the epitome of a proud queen-rider. T’gellan suppressed a gag when he realized that his new tunic matched her gown. He looked to his wing; they were watching the grounds. He looked to the tiers and on the second level, he saw Mirrim, talking and pointing with Menolly. He was relieved she had company, knowing that part of Talina’s show was to annoy her.

The dragonets and new riders were paired quickly except for one green who cried piteously from the grounds. Talina had dropped her grip on his hand. He shook it absently as he watched the little green’s progress to the base of the steps. She cried as her chin smacked against the step. Monarth was still droning and it was getting louder. ” _Go to her dark one_ ”, he chanted. Arwith joined his drone. Implausible as it seemed, Mirrim was approaching the little green. He hadn’t realized he had been holding his breath until she cried out “She says her name is ‘Path’”.

“ _Path._ ” said Monarth at exactly the same moment.

T’gellan stared at his dragon, eyes rapidly spinning red with flashes of purple, a predatory look. He dared not look at Talina.

 

# # #

 

T’gellan walked beside Talina while making the rounds to families of new riders but his mind was with the new green pair. He was acutely aware that almost every blue and several browns were ringing the bowl where the new pairs had received their first instructions from Weyrlingmaster B’mezal. Several blue and brown riders were excited by the idea of flying the new green with a female rider. As exhilarating as a mating flight was, some riders endured their dragons’ desires more than enjoyed. Greens rose more often and there were more of them.

Talina lead him to a table of a new brown rider where Sebel, Oharan and Menolly had finished singing. She stiffened as soon as she heard a snippet of conversation. “… werybred and records do indicate that many green riders were female in times past,” Oharan said with authority.

T’gellan watched Menolly as she nodded her head and strummed soothing chords from her guitar. After a few niceties to the proud family he pulled apart from Talina to speak with Menolly. Discreetly the two stepped away.

“Have you seen her?” they both said simultaneously. Menolly chuckled. “Not since she impressed. All the other new pairs are here and the feast is about to begin. Shouldn’t she be along soon?”

Talina, who had sidled up to them spoke coldly. “She’s probably being grilled about touching eggs before they hatch.”

Menolly strummed a major chord then plucked a minor arpeggio. T’gellan chuckled.

Talina relented. “Oh go on and find that pair, then. You’re no good to me here.” She stalked off.

“What a prize you have won, T’gellan,” Menolly said dryly.

He looked at her puzzled, “I thought Mirrim’d told you.” He paused. “About us, that is. I thought the two of you good friends”.

“Mirrim is private about her true feeling. You know that, but I do know that she is very fond of you. You two have an understanding?” Menolly looked into his face, “O-ho, so you do. How does her impression of green Path affect you?”

T’gellan shook his head, “Dunno.”

 

# # #

 

It was close to evening by the time he found the new pair. Mirrim had indeed been called to the Weyrwoman’s chambers. She and Path had indeed been grilled by F’lar, Lessa and the Weyrlingmaster but she was allowed to eat her portion of the feast with F’nor and Brekke who usually remained in their weyr when so many strangers were about Benden.

F’lar had slapped him on the back, grinning when T’gellan had asked her where-abouts, and was the one to direct him to F’nor’s weyr.

F’nor greeted him heartily while Brekke nodded and handed him a cup of wine. The two men toasted the little green and her rider. Brekke interrupted to say that the pair was on the lea side of the tunnel, near the lake. Her gaze upon T’gellan was enigmatic. He held her stare and nodded then she looked down.

Mirrim was rubbing down Path with the help of Reppa, Lok and Tolly who enjoyed a few rubs themselves. Monarth was with them, laid out flat against the sand in a most undignified sprawl. His eyes roiled a deep blue. As he stepped up to his dragon’s head to rub the knob above the eyes, Path turned to him. He was struck with how perfectly she was shaped, her iridescent green skin, glimmering in the receding light. He took the few steps to kneel before her. Taking both cheeks in his palms he rubbed, “You are the most beautiful green on the planet.”

Mirrim turned to him, the radiance of impression still reflected in her smile. “I don’t know why she chose me.”

“I do,” he said looking back into the green dragonet’s eyes, “you match, perfectly!”

She rubbed the last bit of hide with her rag then dropped it by the bottle of oil. T’gellan stood to take her in his arms, he was certain they were quite alone. “I’m dirty and oily  and you are wearing your best clothes,” she protested. He gathered her into his arms anyway. She returned the embrace.

He let out a hearty laugh as they held each other thinking that if he had worn that white tunic; he could have ruined it and have been able to turn it into a rag. He didn’t have to know what Mirrim was thinking to feel her turmoil. “How did Brekke take the Impression?” he asked after a few moments as darkness descended on the bowl.

“Not well. How did Talina?”

“I don’t care a shard.” He led her over to the crook behind Monarth’s shoulder and the two sat down. Path waddled over and lay with her head on Mirrim’s lap. Tolly, Lok and Reppa snuggled themselves in with the humans. A quiet ease took over the group.

As the dragons and fire lizards’ eyelids closed, the darkness became complete. Around the bend of the double ring bowl they could hear the festivities and see the lights that played on the bowl walls opposite them. “They sound like a group of wherries in the marshes,” Mirrim observed.

T’gellan chuckled. “Now that you say that,” he faced her as a woman’s cackle rose above the rest of the garble, “they do!” She looked up and he bent to kiss her. For the first time in a too long a time she returned his kiss with passion.” He was the first to pull away and she burrowed her head into the crook of his shoulder.

“You’re holding in, Mirrim. Let go.”

She let out an explosive breath. “We’re never going to get there, T’gellan. Never to a time or place where we can be true weyrmates.” Her hand rested on the back of Path’s oversized head, absently caressing her. “You are tied to Monarth’s appetites and I say I understand but that doesn’t mean I like it. I’m now tied to Path’s. See all those swirling eyes above us? They belong to blues and browns whose riders are now contemplating a green’s mating with a female partner.”

T’gellan looked up and sent a mental note to Monarth, “If any of them are in our wing, send them to their couches.”

A few dragons either retreated or flew off. _I can fly Path too,”_ he added smugly. T’gellan had entertained the same thought.

“Mirrim, love,” he began gently, “We have a turn or two before she’s mature enough to mate. Nothing says that a bronze can’t join in the chase.”

Monarth punctuated his statement with a rumble that shook them.

“And I think you’re wrong about being weyrmates. Once you and Path fly, we can return to my old weyr. Just think how lovely the four of us,” Reppa lifted her head and hissed,” “the SEVEN of us will be. There’s little to stop us now. As a dragonrider, your status at Benden is changed and if the four of us determine that the best living situation between fights is together, then the Weyr will concur.”

“They’ll let us fight thread, you think?”

“Pern needs every dragon if we are to prevail through this pass.” He had a momentary vision of threadscore across Mirrim’s face and couldn’t help flinching. “But, not in my wing, you probably shouldn’t,” he replied after some deliberation.

They stayed together at the far end of the bowl as they watch dragons lift and pop between. Sometimes dozing, sometimes talking. T’gellan retold his and Monarth’s impression now that Mirrim had truly experienced the same exhilaration. They reminisced about their few days in Southern and their few days after Brekke’s recovery.

“That’s us,” Mirrim summarized, “moments of perfect bliss between turns of waiting. I’ll never understand why you wait for me. I’m not that pleasant and no beauty either.”

T’gellan gave her a brief squeeze, “Don’t forget your pointy nose and big feet.” They both chuckled. Silence descended upon them. T’gellan did wonder at his need for her. It was something he felt deeply but didn’t think he could articulate. “I guess it’s because you see me, Mirrim. You have always seen me, not the bronze rider, not the wingleader, but me.”

Mirrim snuggled her head into his shoulder, “I suppose I do love you for more than your dragon.”

As the sounds died down to people cleaning and moving tables, T’gellan nudged Mirrim awake. “Where did the Weyrlingmaster say you were to go tonight? Surely not with the other weyrlings!”

“His last words to me were something to the effect that he didn’t want to see me ever, although he was being a bit huffy. I think he is the most upset by my and Path’s pairing.”

T’gellan remembered his own training by B’mezal. He was an intolerant sort who hadn’t much use for females. Now he was in charge of one of the most difficult, sharpest woman in Benden. Perhaps Path will calm her, give her the poise she needs. Would this latest twist in Mirrim’s difficult life bring them together finally, or tear them apart?

“Where do you and Path expect to sleep tonight?”

“F’nor and Canth said Path and I could go back to his weyr and Brekke agreed but I know we upset her.

“Stay with us tonight,” T’gellan suggested. “We’ll just sleep.”

But they didn’t.

 

# # #

 

When T’gellan awoke the next morning, Mirrim, Path and the two green fire lizards were gone. He stared into Tolly’s gently whirling eyes as Monarth informed him that the females had left for weyrling class. He stretched, popping bones and cracking joints. After he relieved himself in the cistern, he trudged over to the basin to splash water on his face then to the shaft enclosed in the false wall to yell “Klah, one cup.” Yes, there were benefits to the wingleader weyrs close to the bowl.

The rumble in the wall stopped and he extracted the steaming cup. Beside it was a bowl of meat scraps. He shook his head then presented the bowl to Tolly who attacked it with as much pleasure as he his cup of klah. “That means the women of the lower caverns know where you and your faire slept last night, Tolly.” The fire lizard looked to him briefly, before dipping back into his bowl.

 

# # #

 

T’gellan entered the council room with most of the other wingleaders. They sat around the oblong table companionably conversing about the previous day’s hatching and the new pairs. Mirrim and Path’s names were mentioned most frequently. T’gellan enjoyed the banter, accepting the odd ribbing but mostly he was pleased that his peers were congratulating him as much as F’nor. F’lar stepped up to the head of the table from the hall that led to his private chamber. Everyone quieted.

“Nine Greens, Seven Blues, Three Browns and Two Bronzes.” F’lar began proudly. Several congratulations were given for his and Lessa’s son, one of the new bronze riders. F’lar beamed. He put forward a reed bowl with a lid on it. “With this newest group I now believe we are ready to form our 12th wing. Thus by lots, we will draw upon one of our own to make the newest. He shook the bowl and pulled a blue marble, F’nor began recording as the basket made the rounds to the other 10 wing leaders.

T’gellan pulled the black marble with the bronze streak. He would pick from his own wing the next wingleader and he was pleased for S’kel. Seated next to him, old R’gul pulled a clear marble and would not lose any of his riders on the first round.

“Pick your riders. When we meet in three days, we will welcome our newest wingleader. T’gellan?”

“S’kel!” He called out, proudly. “I will miss him on my right.”

“Very well,” F’lar smiled, “now for the casualty lists.” The meeting continued for another hour before F’lar called it to conclusion. As the dragonmen filed out, F’lar detained T’gellan and F’nor. When the footfalls died away, F’lar turned to the wine cabinet and extracted a bottle and three glasses.

“I know you both made offers to Mirrim and Path to stay with you but I have decided she will live in the barracks with her hatchmates.” F’nor was the first to protest but F’lar held up his hand. “If we expect to put girls to the egg then we have to expect them to go through the same training as any other fighting pair.”

“The Weyrlingmaster has never dealt with a woman before,” F’nor protested. “He will have absolutely no understanding of her. He won’t even segregate her sleeping quarters, I’ll warrant.”

T’gellan recalled the long hall of beds in the room where he slept for the first six months of his and Monarth’s lives together. He shuddered. The antics of boys and young men after lights out were infamous, he remembered with unease now. Mirrim was in for an ordeal. “B’mezel will need some instruction on womenfolk.” T’gellan said. “Perhaps Manora could speak with him?”

F’lar shook his head. “Lessa spoke with him at length. He will comply or she will move to the barracks herself for the next six months. She is committed to this course and so must we.” He poured the ruby liquid into the glasses then raised his own. “To change.”

F’nor raised his glass, drained it in one gulp and set the goblet back on the table. “Change,” he mumbled as he walked through the stone arch to the lower caverns.

T’gellan reluctantly picked up his glass and raised it, “I don’t know who to fear for most, Mirrim or B’mezal.” He then took a sip of the most fragrant wine he had ever tasted.


	8. The Trials of the Weyrlingmaster

Weyrlingmaster B’mezal stomped into the council room, scowling. It was mid afternoon which meant that he had left the latest group of weyrlings alone and it didn’t bode well. His foul mood of the last two months was explained by the one girl rider he was expected to train. F’lar and the wingleaders look up. “A word, Weyrleader, please,” he growled, his jaw grinding. T’gellan watched them move to the hall between the Weryleaders’ chambers and the council room. He heard F’lar call to Lessa, then F’nor. When Lessa entered the council room she beckoned to him. He followed her up to the first room of her private quarters where the other three stood in a small knot, talking low. As he entered the room, all eyes turned to him.

“T’gellan,” began F’nor, “It’s Mirrim.”

His chest tightened. “Is she hurt? Is something the matter with Path? What…” he turned to B’mezal whose scowl had deepened.

“She’s miscarried,” continued F’nor.

T’gellan found that he was holding onto the wall and he couldn’t gather a full breath. She hadn’t told him. How could she have? The night of impression was the last time they had been together. She had his child; it would have to be his child. “Where is she now? I want to see her,” he looked first to Lessa then to Brekke who had entered from without.

“I can’t maintain discipline among 20 boys and a bleeding girl,” snarled B’mezal, then he flushed at the inappropriateness of his oath. “Weyrleader, I have tried. I know what head need knocking, what needs stitching and what needs my boot in a rear but, but this?!! Thirty-five turns of training riders, I have no experience for this and I’m done gaining any.”

F’lar and F’nor both spoke at the same time, contradicting each other about Mirrim and Path’s training.

“She stays.”

“Bring her out”.

Lessa and Brekke looked intently at each other and they spoke at the same time too, also contradicting each other.

“She must complete weyrling training.”

“She will need to be brought to the Infirmary.”

“Get her out of my barracks. This is another sign that training a girl to fight is ridiculous.” B’mezal raised his voice.

“I want to see her. NOW, F’lar,” T’gellan interrupted angrily. Several dragons roared then silence. Lessa was holding up her hands.

Lessa insinuated herself between the Weyrlingmaster and the tall wingleader. “T’gellan, she has to stay with the rest of the weyrlings and finish her and Path’s training. B’mezal, Brekke will examine her, make her comfortable in the barracks but she stays there unless Brekke says she needs to be moved to the infirmary.”

F’nor assisted his weyrmate to the exit through Ramoth’s couch to the bowl. B’mezal gave one parting glower to F’lar and stumped behind them. F’lar touched Lessa’s arm which she flinched away. He shrugged, returning to the council room. T’gellan continued to stare blankly before him not realizing she had called his name, probably more than once. He looked at her.

“So Talina is in her fifth month, not ready to call the child yours until she’s had a good look at it, but you’ll gladly claim Mirrim’s. Am I right?” Lessa had seated herself and gestured to the one next to her. T’gellan walked over and fell into it. He shook his head slowly and put it in his hands as he leaned forward and tried to get his mind around the matter.

His last look at Mirrim was in his arms before he fell asleep on the night she impressed Path. He seemed confident that she, Path and the fire lizards would move into his weyr. A babe, their baby, in their weyr, he thought for the first time. It was another happy future he hadn’t imagined he had wanted until it was taken away.

“Of course, it was my child,” he finally replied. “I want to see her; talk with her.”

“When we ordered that B’mezal include Mirrim and Path with the rest of the weyrlings’ training, we knew we’d be in for a trial,” Lessa stated after a few moments of silence. If they train well; if they’re a viable fighting team, we will start putting more girls to the eggs.” She paused, “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for the two of you.”

“I want to talk with her.”

“You know how the first six months of training are. No family while riders and dragons learn each other.” Lessa replied with a sigh.

When he looked up, Lessa was gazing across her room, deep in thought. F’lessan was one of the 21 new riders under the authority of the Weyrlingmaster. He stood, resigned, “I thank you Weyrwoman. I guess we have no choice but to wait until next month on that first restday.”

He exited the chamber and returned to the council room joining in the discussions with the other wingleaders. No questions were asked and he provided no explanation. At the end of the session, F’lar regarded him with sympathy and he nodded as he departed.

 

# # #

 

Brekke and F’nor entered B’mezal’s realm at the cavern behind the lake, close to the beasthold. The boys and young men were seated in two rows listening to a brown rider’s lecture. F’nor guided her to the barracks. Mirrim was in the back row of cots. Two green riders sat vigil on a cot beside her. When they saw who approached their eyes grew like saucers as they stood to salute the wingleader and Brekke. F’nor nodded his release as his weyrmate stepped to her foster daughter’s bedside. As the two began a low conversation, F’nor motioned to the two boys to step away.

“F’nor, sir,” began the blond, wiry one. “Don’t take Mirrim away. She needs to stay with the rest of us.” The other, darker boy nodded his head in agreement.

He regarded both, “G’lenan and …“ he looked pointedly at the darker boy.

“S’bald, F’nor sir,” the boy crossed his arm over his chest in deferential salute.

“G’lenan and S’bald, you do your hatchmate honor,” he smiled at them briefly. “But let the healer finish her evaluation.” They looked sideways to where Brekke and Mirrim were seated, next to each other, heads together, Brekke’s arm about Mirrim’s shoulder. He beckoned to the boys to move further down the hall.

S’bald continued, “Mirrim’s only fault is she’s a girl, sir. Otherwise she’d make a fine green rider.”

“Yeah, she’s the smartest on dragon anatomy and care.” G’lenan added.

“As she should,” F’nor replied. So she holds her own in the Weyrlingmaster’s realm. Good, thought F’nor. He was relieved to know she had champions. F’nor and F’lar had impressed together and trained under B’mezal. They may have been brothers through their father but their training made them closer than blood. Perhaps Lessa and F’lar were right; Mirrim must train with her hatchmates.

He was more than fond of Brekke’s fosterling. Dependable, intelligent and downright blunt when it came to getting people to do what’s necessary, Mirrim was a bit of a worry. He credited her for saving Brekke in those crucial moments after she lost Wirenth. He knew her constant care after Brekke turned that corner afterwards was why he had a woman to love at all. He was grateful to Mirrim who cared for him and Canth during their long, painful recovery from going to the red star. But, officious and abrupt, she had few friends or confidants. Although he didn’t doubt T’gellan’s affection, he was a bronze rider. He was certain that circumstances would break their attachment some day.

The three of them looked up to see Brekke walking towards them. He stepped aside to confer with her.

“She can stay so long as B’mezal agrees that she is restricted for a sevenday from strenuous activity and heavy lifting. I will check her every morning until then. Brekke lifted mournful eyes to her weyrmate. “She won’t leave of her own volition. I can’t force her.”

“Come,” he replied taking Brekke by the elbow and escorting her out of the barracks. The two green riders watched them stop to speak to the Weyrlingmaster who was standing with his feet apart and fists on hips. He scowled, nodding his head curtly at intervals.

They both looked back at the last bed with its covered form. “Wingleader F’nor and his weyrmate came to administer to her,” S’bald said in astonishment.

“That’s Brekke, former rider of Wirenth,” G’lenan replied reverently, “Mirrim is her foster daughter. They turned to the door again but the mass of the Weyrlingmaster stood before them.

“Get to class,” he gruffed.

 

# # #

 

The first restday when the future riders were allowed to visit their families was rainy. But, the twenty young men and one girl were ready to tear across the wet bowl to family and friends after feeding and bedding their dragons. If the rider was new to weyrlife, they were greeted warmly by the weyrfolk. The weyrborn were met by their families, Mirrim among them.

T’gellan stood with F’nor and Brekke much to Talina’s annoyance. In her gravid condition she had opted to rest in her weyr and not subject herself to the reunion.

When Mirrim came into view through the sheeting rain, T’gellan stepped out to her grabbing her by the waist and twirling her around before running her back to the cavern where F’nor and Brekke waited. Unexpectedly both F’nor and Brekke hugged the two of them, although they were wet. T’gellan thought to disentangle himself but realized he was being included in her family. Brekke wasn’t objecting. As the four of them sat down to klah and some hot cereal, Mirrim and Brekke began speaking rapidly, discussing the women and children in the lower caverns, how their fire lizards were faring and what was happening in the Infirmary. F’nor and T’gellan shrugged at each other and contented themselves with their breakfast.

When the women took a breath, T’gellan cut in, “There’s a Gather today in Boll. I’d like to take Mirrim to it.” Mirrim looked up in surprised delight then schooled her features to gauge Brekke’s reaction.

“When do you intend to go?” Brekke asked. “It’s still night in the west.”

“I figured we’d leave about mid-afternoon. Then walk around the stalls for a while and be back by supper.” T’gellan replied, looking to F’nor then Brekke and finally to Mirrim. Brekke shrugged while F’nor and Mirrim smiled.

“I’d love to go.” Mirrim interjected before Brekke could change her mind. “Brekke and I are going to see Sanra’s new baby first then she wants to show me the new centrifuge in the infirmary. Can we meet back in the dining hall before lunch?”

After a leisurely few hours talking with the latest riders who were also new to Benden, T’gellan decided to pass the rest of the morning in his weyr. All three of Mirrim’s fire lizards were crawling over Monarth’s back in little mincing steps. “ _I itch when it rains._ ”

“We’ll go to Boll this afternoon. You’ll have a warm ocean to swim in.” T’gellan said as he crossed to Monarth’s couch to rub his eye ridges.

“ _Lioth says the sky is clear,_ ” replied Monarth, his eyes swirling blue.

Reppa chirped and looked to the lip of the weyr. T’gellan could hear somebody running up the steps. Swinging a bag and covering her head with an oilskin Mirrim came into view. She shook off the oilskin and draped it on a small outcrop of rock.

“Saw the baby; saw the centrifuge,” she said between breaths.

“What’s in the bag?” T’gellan asked as he approached her.

“Brekke gave me a proper gather gown and F’nor gave me two and a half marks,” she answered stepping into his arms. “Brrr, I’m cold. Let’s have a soak.”

T’gellan laughed. “I forgot that you have to haul water from the lake for washings in the barracks.” They headed to the bed chamber but it took a bit longer to get to the bathing room.

 

# # #

 

Lunch was shared with F’nor, Brekke, F’lar, Lessa and F’lessan. T’gellan and the brothers shared stories of their days in the barracks. F’lessan was animated in his own tales but it was clear that the best behaved and most conscientious weryling was Mirrim who spoke little while they ate. Many of F’lessan’s stories involved boys’ antics, tricks and practical jokes and he ended most of them with “But not Mirrim, she stayed out of it.” The rain had slackened and T’gellan wanted to leave before it started up again. They did get a bit damp as Monarth rose above the bowl to a height safe enough to jump between.

Instead of Boll they were above Half Circle. T’gellan directed Monarth to the dragon stones where he perched on his usual flat rock. Mirrim hugged him from behind and put her chin on his shoulder. “What are we doing here?” she asked.

“We’ve got “time” before we go to Boll yet,” he replied. “We like coming here to think sometimes. See that hole in the cliff?” He pointed to the shore.

“What about it?”

“That’s Menolly’s cave. If you come here pre-dawn you will see three stars low on the horizon right over there.” He pointed southeasterly.

“The Dawn Sisters, yes.” Mirrim adjusted her hold on T’gellan’s waist then moved to his other ear. “I know.”

“You can’t see them in the deep night. You have to wait until the sun is just below the horizon and then they shine for only a short while. Right after the sun clears the horizon they disappear.”

“We couldn’t see them from Southern Weyr,” Mirrim replied after a few moments of silence.

“Have you ever seen them?”

“No.”

“Wanna see ‘em now?” T’gellan asked, moving his head back in order to see her face. She had frozen.

“You mean ‘time’ it?” She leaned further out to get a better look at his face. “It’s forbidden.”

T’gellan laughed out loud. “C’mon Mirrim, you’ve been so well behaved, following ol’ B’mezal orders. And I know those hatchmates are putting on you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I would have if I had a girl hatchmate in the barracks.” After a pause, T’gellan continued. “Think on it when B’mezal is picking on you.” He paused again. “Share it with younger ones who look up to you.”

Mirrim rested her chin back on T’gellan’s shoulder. “Who is telling you what is going on in the barracks?”

“Nobody has to tell me. I know you“. He could feel her breathing against his neck.

 “Don’t you get disoriented when you go back in time?” She asked. “It unsettles you and some people lose their minds”.

“Mirrim, what were you doing before dawn this morning?” T’gellan laughed.

“Sleeping.”

“So was I. So the worst part of timing it is meeting yourself. We’re not going to do that,“ he waited, enjoying her predicament. “So, do you want to be the first of your hatchmates to ‘Time’ it?”

She squirmed behind him. He could tell her principles were warring with her yearning. “Do you want to see them or not?”

 “YES, yes I want to see them.” She lightly punched his shoulder. “Will B’mezal be able to tell I timed it?”

“Only if you tell him.”

“No chance of that.” She shrugged down behind him.

“Ok, then. You need to know that the jump is a bit longer than between places at the same time. It will be colder too. Are you ready?”

“What about my fire lizards? Will they follow?” Mirrim looked for them.

“Monarth sent them on to Boll. They won’t miss us“.

“I’m glad I wore trousers under this dress.”

Monarth spread his wings grabbing the wind and lifting. With two sweeps he had climbed sufficiently. “Get ready… now.”

“ _I am with you too, little one._ ”

Monarth set back down on his perch. The predawn sky was clear. Both moons had set. The sky was purpling. Low on the southeastern horizon the three stars appeared. They shone at first faintly then brighter. “Do you see them?”

Mirrim raised herself higher pushing up from his shoulders. She rose as high as the riding straps allowed. “Oh, I have always wanted to see them and there they are. Look how bright they get. I’ve always heard that they don’t act like normal stars. None of the ones that have fixed paths or wander like the Red Star or the blue or green ones. Oh they’re more spectacular than I could have imagined.” As the sun peaked over the horizon they abruptly disappeared. “Oh thank you, T’gellan,“ she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his check. “I will remember this moment forever.”

T’gellan was exceedingly pleased with himself.

 

# # #

 

It was still early in the day when the two dragonriders walked the stalls in Boll. Reppa perched on Mirrim’s shoulder while Tolly decided that T’gellan made a sufficient roost. Lok was skimming the waves in the harbor with Monarth and a few other Fort dragons. The breeze from the wharf carried the briny scent of the ocean and drying fish nets. Mirrim exclaimed over the glass smith’s wares. She ignored the rows of delicate stemware and ornamented carafes for the glass weights placed on the corners of the stand. The heavy spheres held tiny scenes within. Some held glass-blown flowers, others simple swirls of primary colors but one held a queen fire lizard in flight. Mirrim looked to the man behind the stall before lifting it to the sun. Both Reppa and Tolly leaned forward to look into the bauble that their mistress held.

“They’re my wind weights, miss.” The glassblower said. “I made them to hold the cloth to the table. But I’d let that one go for three marks.”

Mirrim blanched, curtsied quickly placing the glass back on the table and walking away. T’gellan shrugged at the man and hurried after her. “You were supposed to start haggling with him if you wanted it.” He said as he caught up to her.

“Spend all my marks on a trinket?” Mirrim made a disparaging sound in her throat.

“I could get him down to a mark, maybe half a mark.” T’gellan replied. “Do you want the queen fire lizard? You always said you wanted one.”

She smiled faintly then shook her head. “It’s just a bauble and I’d be more interested if it had a green or brown fire lizard.” She stroked Reppa.

The gather was becoming crowded which irritated the fire lizards which really meant Mirrim was irritated. Mirrim chose to wait in a line that was away from the throngs. It was for bubbly pies which Menolly had recommended highly. All three of her fire lizards stayed with her while T’gellan said he wanted to run back up the line to talk to a Fort bronze rider he knew. He rounded back to visit the glassblower’s stall and didn’t see her sneak off to the tanners.

Later, along the seawall, each ate a bubbly pie and watched several dragons cavort in the harbor with their tiny cousins in attendance. Several riders walked by from the wharf on their way to sit on the beach below them. As they passed, giving T’gellan and idle salute, one old man started then laughed aloud. He gave a proper salute and a deep bow to them while booming, “T’gellan bronze Monarth’s rider and is this little Mirrim, green Path’s rider?!” His companions stopped as one and turned back around. Mirrim leaned into T’gellan.

“Greetings, G’nareth, blue Bleth’s rider.” Mirrim smiled and curtsied. T’gellan echoed her but stepped forward to grip G’nareth’s forearm in a gesture of equals.

G’nareth reached for her hand and brought it to his lips. “I am so pleased to see you and your bronze rider. I warrant that Path is growing well under your expert care?”

“You walk with barely a limp, sir,” she replied, pushing herself further back into T’gellan. G’nareth laughed and extolled to the riders Mirrim’s ministrations as a healer’s apprentice to both T’gellan and him when Southern was still open. He all but dropped his trousers to show the tangled scarring about his calf and thigh and how she had rubbed salve into it and exercised him back to health.

The other men introduced themselves, each taking her hand from the next gripping it or kissing it. Contemplation spoke from their eyes and she began to tremble.

A group of young women approached. They had been following the men down to the beach and all soon left. Mirrim took a few deep breaths, looked to T’gellan and said, “I think I’d better return to Benden now.”

Once aloft on Monarth, T’gellan directed them to an alpine lake north of Ruatha. As Monarth landed, Mirrim tapped him impatiently on his shoulder and said, “I do think it’s time to return to the Weyr.”

“I’m not returning you to Brekke while you are upset,” he replied. “Step down.” Mirrim slid into T’gellan’s arm. As he put her on her feet, he reached for her hand and led her to the tall grass. He laid his jacket down and sat on it, pulling her to sit in front of him, facing him. “Weren’t you enjoying yourself at the Gather? I half hoped that we’d get at least one dance set in.”

“But I was enjoying myself,” she protested looking down.

He put his hand under her chin to raise it. “Until the Telgar riders came by. They were a jovial group. I was pleased to see G’nareth. What bothered you?”

Mirrim turned aside. T’gellan scooted closer pressing his hand to her back. She looked across the peaceful lake at the snowy mountains ringing it. “It was the way those men looked at me once they heard I was Path’s rider. I haven’t even ridden her yet.”

“She’s not grown enough to ride yet; but she will grow. That shouldn’t bother you.” He watched her profile as she stared across the lake. She looked briefly to him then away. “You’re still upset.”

Mirrim let out a huge sigh. “It’s the way they look at me, brown and blue riders.”

“Hmmph,” he mused. “They appreciated you. A bit too much for you comfort, then. Wait until they see you on Path. She’s the most beautifully shaped dragon, perfect proportions!”

“You haven’t seen her since the day she hatched.” Mirrim protested.

T’gellan laughed, partly because of her reaction and partly for being able to raise her spirits. “She’s perfect because she’s yours.” He pulled closer to her, raising his leg behind her so she could rest her back against his knee. He leaned forward to kiss her below her ear, “And Monarth says he wants to share his couch with her.”

Monarth looked back at them; his eyes swirling a languid light blue. T’gellan slipped one hand down to sit low on her belly. “And, you come with her.”

Mirrim rested her hands over his and pressed. She turned to look into his eyes. He loved her eyes when she looked directly into his. They could reach deep into his being and he could see to the very depth of hers. A tear slipped. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about being … about the baby.” She turned away.

“I wish I had known. That you could have told me, I mean. They wouldn’t let me talk to you or see you. I’ve spent the last month thinking about what you must have been going through.” T’gellan replied.

“Brekke told me when F’nor brought her to examine me. She said you shouted at F’lar and B’mezal. She said that Lessa had to call on Monarth to get you to back down. I asked her to tell you I was sorry.” She looked back at him for confirmation.

“Brekke never said anything to me except that you would recover and you refused to leave your hatchmates. Then she asked me to breakfast with all of you today.” T’gellan reached for her waist trying to pull her closer. She slid her arms around him and they held the awkward embrace. He knew she was trying to control herself and not cry. When her breathing calmed, he continued, “When your training is done, when you’re assigned to a wing, I want us to share a weyr and maybe try to have another baby.”

She pulled away to look at him in disbelief. “Really? You want children?”

“I’ve already got one child in the lower caverns and there’s probably another on the way. I’ve had a month to think about it and the idea of us sharing a child, well, I like that idea.”

“But, we’re riders so the babe would have to be fostered out,” she added.

“And who better than Brekke?”

A broad smile spread across Mirrim’s face. “I do want to have at least one child.”

“It’d be great but first I want us to live together. Will you consider it?”

Mirrim answered by throwing her arms around his neck pushing him back into the grass. She kissed him thoroughly then leaned back. “I’ve considered it but before I say yes you must accept this one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t dance.”


	9. First Flight

The nine new green riders walked into the mating cavern which was a low opening before the beast hold. As their eyes grew accustomed to the dim lighting, B’fol and K’tonar, two green riders beckoned to them.

The taller, B’fol was a sandy colored man, handsome and lean. K’tonar was younger and more muscular. They introduced themselves then asked each rider his name and his green’s. Mirrim was last and both men seemed a bit uncomfortable.

“Men, this large room is called the mating cavern. When your green rises, she will blood her kills usually in the stockyard before this opening.” B’fol gestured vaguely toward the light end of the room. “Before the first time your green rises you will have chosen an observer, usually another green rider.” He paused as a few riders mumbled. “I don’t expect that any of you have witnessed a mating flight.” He looked uncomfortably at Mirrim. “You will observe at least one flight before your beast rises so that you understand your duty. Either my Gereth or K’tonar’s Dablarth will rise next. As we are attuned to our dragons, we will give you enough notice so that you can observe both the blooding and mating.”

K’tonar stepped up beside B’fol and continued speaking. “It is tradition for a green’s first mating flight to be open to at least blue and brown dragons. I cannot emphasize enough your preparation. Not only must you understand your green’s passions but also your own. Do not come unprepared to this room. Be experienced so that you do not lose your dragon.”

A few of the young men murmured. One raised his hand. “Speak C’logar, Miloth’s rider.”

The attractive young man was taken aback by his new title. He cleared his throat. “What exactly is observed?”

B’fol straightened his shoulders. “As each of you learned the care of your dragon in the last five months, I suspect that a few of you noticed your dragon is female. She will rise; she will mate with a blue or brown and sometimes a bronze.” He glanced quickly at Mirrim along with the rest of the riders. “And you will be carried in her mating flight along with the rider of the dragon who catches her.”

K’tonar cut in, “You may or may not form an attachment with the other rider. It is not expected like a Golden and Bronze mating. You may have an attachment to a rider and his beast catches your green but your green may choose her own. You must let her have control during flight and then control her once she is caught to ensure she and her mate are brought safely home. The best way to ensure this is to submit to the other rider. After fighting thread, this is your most important duty.”

G'naret, Nallath’s rider sputtered, “Submit?”

“What did you expect, green rider, when you stood on the hatching grounds? She came to you, told you her name and promised to love you above all else. And, you made the same promise. She will suicide if you die, her connection to you is that vital and you will want to die if you outlive her. You are among the elite few of Pern. You will sear thread from the skies. Lords, Holders, Crafters and commoners hold you in awe when you walk among them. You receive this honor because she chose you among the rest of the candidates and you will submit when the time comes.”

Silence reigned throughout the room until B’fol cleared his throat. “Submission can be sweet. That’s why we ask you to become active. In a month you will begin flying and you will rejoin the rest of the weyr. There are men and women who will help you. We are Weyrfolk, we understand the bond.”

“However, few outsiders, including you original family, know or understand this aspect of weyrlife.” K’tonar continued. “We don’t share it. When your green has her first mating flight we will celebrate with you and welcome you to this exclusive brotherhood.”

S’bald nudged Mirrim, “how about that, Brother Mirrim?” A few of the other green riders chuckled. She became the close scrutiny of the older green riders.

“You do understand, Mirrim,” K’tonar addressed her, “You and T’gellan, bronze Monarth’s rider, may have chosen each other but during Path’s first mating flight, she may chose another.”

B’fol added eagerly, “will you ask T’gellan to join in Path’s first mating flight?”

“B’fol! This is a lesson for green riders, not a venue for you to satisfy your curiosity.” K’tonar snapped. “Don’t answer, Mirrim.”

B’fol was undaunted. “She should understand her unique situation, K’tonar.” He turned to Mirrim eagerly, “Perhaps you’ll be the first green to keep a Bronze!”

Mirrim interjected, “I am quite aware that as the first female green rider in remembered history, every aspect of Path and my training and lives will be scrutinized. There are eight other green riders present. Please continue this lecture.”

Both dragonriders inclined their heads. K’tonar briskly continued, “Yes, follow me to this area that we call the pit.” The riders followed him as B’fol regarded Mirrim who was lagging behind. She winked at him and hurried up.

 

# # #

 

The twenty-one riders sat atop their dragons. They were arranged from largest to smallest. F’lessan’s Golanth was first and Mirrim’s Path was last. As the rest of Benden’s riders had observed, Path was slightly larger than the white sport, Ruth. Although all dragonmen regarded the Lord of Ruatha’s beast as a true dragon, they would think ‘sport’ since the pair didn’t live in a Weyr. All twenty-one dragons would grow more over the next few turns but for now they were all deemed ready for flight.

B’fol’s Gereth was head to head with Path as the experienced dragon was instructing her on flight. Both D’wer and B’nard, blue riders, were assisting Mirrim with her riding straps. Tense with the excitement to finally ride her beast, Mirrim was short with the blue riders whose instructions and advice contained lingered touches on her legs and Path’s flanks.

“There now, Mirrim dear, how do the shoulder straps feel? Snug?” B’nard was kneeling behind her on Path, checking the safety straps and taking liberties while tugging on the straps about her body.

“Keep to task,” D’wer ordered curtly. He was standing beside them, holding firmly to the ankle of Mirrim’s boot. She wanted to shake him off. Mirrim was beginning to feel the excitement from Path. Far up the bowl, Golanth and F’lessen rose aloft then landed neatly on the rim. Two great bronzes landed beside the new pair. Monarth, from his height turned his head to Path and Mirrim. They both looked up to him. She could tell that T’gellan was speaking to F’lessan. From the way he held his shoulders, he was reprimanding. The dragons and riders around Mirrim paused to see what had distracted them. Monarth looked away.

“ _Keep to task_ ,” Mirrim thought toward the great bronze.

“ _Good Flight_ ” he broadcasted to the two of them. Path warbled and shifted which caused B’nard to lose his balance. Hanging onto Mirrim’s shoulders he chastised them while the other riders chuckled. D’wer gave Mirrim’s boot a gratifying shake.

Soon Mornith and S’lon rose, not nearly as gracefully as the first bronze pair and Mirrim could tell by the posture of S’kel that S’lon was being properly disciplined. The three browns rose and left the bowl with their instructors then a mix of blues and greens, according to size, until only the new last pair remained in the bowl.

F’rad on green Telorth and D’wer on blue Trebeth were beside Mirrim and Path. B’fol was at Path’s head with his Gereth.

“ _We go?_ ” Path said.

“ _Not yet,_ ” Mirrim thought. “ _Wait for Gereth’s command._ ”

“Mirrim! Pay attention!” B’fol commanded. He said aloud for the benefit of all riders, “Gereth, at your pleasure.”

Mirrim rechecked her grip on the straps then hunkered down as her dragon gave her down sweep warning. They were aloft; Mirrim felt her body press into Path’s flank. Intuitively she asked Path to land on the rim. To her right was D’wer smiling broadly until he saw her looking at him then he became grim. F’rad to her left called out portentously, “Mirrim, Path, you both must work together. You both must listen.” She nodded, realizing that Telorth and Trebeth were crooning approvingly. This lesson was a repeat of the last six months when dragonmen expecting her to act like a boy. They kept expecting her to behave recklessly.

Six months of rubbing Path’s body with oil, examining the compact power of her muscles were paying off. Six month of isolation from all whom she loved and depended on for acceptance had made Mirrim so confident in her dragon that flight was as natural as breathing. Six months of sharing hopes, fears and thoughts prepared Mirrim and Path more than any of their hatchmates.

“ _Telorth says we are to rise with them and hover_.” Path stated excitedly.

“ _On F’rad’s mark, my love,_ ” she thought back.

All three rose simultaneously then flew over the bowl as they headed up and north. F’nor looked down on Brekke whose eyes were so far away that he knew she was remembering her first flight with Wirenth. He looked away; the pain was severe. F’nor nudged her. “She’s a natural on Path in flight.”

“I never had a doubt” Brekke replied, smiling proudly.

“She executed her first lift off better than any of her hatchmates,” F’nor added. They were the last in the bowl. Weyrfolk were continuing their daily duties now that they had witnessed the latest group of riders take to the sky.

 

# # #

 

Rising above the upper BendenRange, Mirrim and Path, between the two larger beasts, green Telorth and blue Trebeth, matched their ascents and direction. She could feel the buffeting caused by them which made Path work harder. “ _Raise us about half my height, Path. Get above that wind from their wings._ ” Path complied and immediately felt the lift. “ _Interesting,_ ” Mirrim thought toward Path. “ _Do you think they meant us to figure that out?_ ”

“ _Telorth says you were clever to know where to place us but now we are to turn left on her mark._ ” Path replied. The three dragons executed a near perfect turn. The trio flew until the sun indicated late afternoon. Path’s landing in the bowl was as well executed as her lift-off. Both experienced riders were smiling broadly, no longer feeling the need to impose strictures. Mirrim hugged Path’s head to her chest then removed the riding straps so that Path could enjoy a dunk in the lake with her hatchmates. About six of them were cavorting. Mirrim folded the straps so that they wouldn’t drag when she slung them over one shoulder. She had seen riders do this since she was a little girl. She allowed her first laugh of the day as she approached F’rad and D’wer who had released their dragons as well.

“Come, lady rider,” D’wer said taking her arm. Both men escorted her back towards the WeyrlingCave where B’mezal stood in his customary stance, legs apart, and fists on hips. He tipped his chin up as he watched the last of his weyrlings enter his domain. Mirrim knew the crusty old man well enough now to know he was as proud of her as he’d allow a weyrling to know.

“They pass?” He gruffed.

Both D’wer and F’rad laughed heartily. “They fly as one,” D’wer responded. “They’ll be the first to go between in this batch, I’ll warrant.”

“Don’t give them ideas,” F’rad added, “Although, they’re too responsible to each other to be tempted.”

“Go to the right then, Mirrim.” B’mezal jerked his head in the direction of the room where most of her classes had been for the last six month. She suddenly realized her days in the barracks were over. B’mezal slugged her arm as she walked past him. Impulsively she turned and hugged him.

“You’re the meanest old grouch in this Weyr,” she growled in his ear.

His booming laugh echoed off the stone walls. “You’re far meaner, you scrawny excuse of a dragonman,” he growled in response as he returned her embrace. “Now, get! Away with you; I’m done with your sort.”

Mirrim released him and stepped into the room where only six other of her weyrmates were milling about. F’lessan turned to her first and raised his fist in the air. “That’s almost half of us who passed!” He crowed. “We’re the best!”

Mirrim sighed, “Seven of us makes only a third to pass, you wherspoor.” She saluted her bronze superior then looked to the rest of the riders with whom she’d share this special bond until their final flight between. Sh’goll was the only brown rider present. Blue riders, R’gan and N’bessed and green riders G’lenan and C’logar were the other four riders. It was then that she saw her kit with the other six bundles. They would receive their weyr assignments today and sleep as true dragonmen tonight, in their own weyrs. She wondered if she should shake it out now or wait until her assignment. Passing didn’t mean that one last practical joke wouldn’t be defiling her gear.

K’tonar and B’fol entered the room with two brown riders. B’fol first spoke with C’logar then signaled to her. She picked up her kit along with C’logar and walked out behind B’fol

“Your weyr, Mirrim, is on the south side and high. It is close to the rim and back far enough from the lower caverns.” B’fol’s hazel eyes regarded her, “I’ll warn you, it’s small. A brown or bronze will not be able to land on the lip. Do you want me to take you and Path to it?”

“Just point at it for us.” Mirrim called to Path who had taken advantage of her new flying status and was warming herself on the rim in the last of the day’s light. She lifted lightly and landed next to her rider. Mirrim quickly slung the straps back onto her dragon, buckling it thoroughly even for the short hop to their new home. B’fol nodded approvingly. Slinging the bundle to her back, Mirrim faced B’fol. He pointed.

“See the striation that looks like an upside down fingerstone?” Mirrim squinted and nodded. Path looked in the same direction. It was high, higher than T’gellan’s old weyr. “The hole to the left, that’s your new weyr.”

Mirrim climbed Path’s back like an expert, settled then gave Path leave to rise. Many riders and dragons watched the pair settle on their ledge and enter. Path’s tail was visible for a few moments then it slipped inside.

“The lip is sufficient,” Mirrim said as she removed the straps and surveyed the spacious cavern that was now Path’s room. It had been recently scrubbed clean. The opening was deceptively small. Once the straps were off, Path paced over to her stone couch and rolled a few times, crooning.

“ _Sufficient, but tonight I will huddle next to Monarth in his weyr._ ”

“Not for a sevenday, love,” Mirrim admonished. “We promised that we’d establish this weyr first.” She sighed. She could dine with T’gellan and his wing tonight. While they dined, Monarth and Path would probably curl together on the lip of his weyr. She picked up the glow basket, unshielding it to spread light across the cavern. A second green or blue could fit in here but not a brown or bronze. She walked toward the curtain pulling it aside. There was a rush bag folded back on the single cot. A press was at the bottom of the narrow bed. On top of it was a fur blanket. She opened the press to find most of her clothing already within.

She dropped the kit on the bed and faced the second curtain. The warmth for her chamber was emanating from it. Taking the basket she entered the bathing chamber. It was small; the bathing pool was little. Three fire lizards were sitting on the bench adjacent to the pool. They were wet. Mirrim bent down to feel the water. It was a touch too hot. She drew a bucket of the water to cool while she assembled her possessions.

Dusk was settling by the time Mirrim was ready to descend to the bowl. As she expected, Monarth bugled as Path landed inviting her to share his ledge. She hopped up daintily to his side while Mirrim walked the remaining distance to the lower caverns. G’lenan was waiting for her.

“It feels so odd; I don’t know where to sit,” G’lenan said as he walked in step with her. They both approached the large pass-through between the main kitchen and back dining hall. Evenings were becoming chilly as autumn progressed. Most of the people were sitting closer to the heat sources.

Picking up a plate and a mug, Mirrim gestured to the dining cavern bathed in warm blackstone fires and golden glowlight. “This is our home, G’lenan. No need for us to feel odd and we’re riders, we can sit where we want.”

“Which I hope means you’ll sit with us,” Willa said as she walked up behind the two riders. “T’gellan’s wing is directly below the dais tonight. He’s been delayed in council but wanted to be sure that you sat with us.” She looked first to Mirrim then lingered on her son, pride shining through her alluring blue eyes. “You and Boath passed your flight test the first time. Your father would have been so proud.” She reached over and rubbed her hand over G’lenan’s recently shorn locks. The three of them turned to the long table that currently was sparsely populated. Her fire lizards were already perched above the head of the table and Mirrim chose to sit there.

The tramping of heavy boots upon the steps indicated that the Wingleaders and their seconds were adjourned and coming to dinner. Soon T’gellan was beside her and couldn’t resist rubbing her short curly hair as well. Many riders exchanged marks and exclaimed how they knew Mirrim was a sure bet but that six other riders passed on their first flights was considered high. Some said that thread challenged them to excellence; others said it was that a woman rider challenged the rest. Wine and special holiday bread was served in honor of the new riders. The entire Weyr seemed to be present with the exception of small children and Talina. Brekke said she was close to delivering. Oharan and Elgion, the Half Circle Harper began playing dance music. Tables were cleared. F’lar and Lessa began the three-quarter step. T’gellan held out his hand to Mirrim in a challenge which she accepted.

“Don’t worry about the steps,” T’gellan said close to her ear, “You follow me.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t know how to dance, just that I didn’t,” she responded as he slipped one hand to her waist and the other took her hand. As they twirled through the other dancers to the easy beat she saw Brekke and F’nor, S’kel and Felena, even G’lenan and Willa were on the floor. Next the musicians played a foot stomping line dance, a favorite among riders. The new riders were compelled to join as it was more of an exercise of agility than grace. Mirrim recognized that many of the moves were designed to reflect riding a dragon during threadfight. The dancing broke and she returned to T’gellan who glanced toward the bowl then back to her.

She gave him her quirky half smirking smile but as they tried to make a discrete exit, B’nard and D’wer sidled up to her and whisked her to stand with the other six new riders where they were summarily insulted and toasted. As the music resumed, she took to the floor with B’fol. D’wer then B’nard claimed her. She begged off the next dance with B’tarth claiming she needed the Necessary. As she made for the hall to the sleeping cubes, another hand grabbed her and pulled her into an empty cube. T’gellan crushed her to him and she tried to press herself closer.

“The riders are not going to let you go easy tonight,” he whispered into her ear. “This, I didn’t anticipate.”

She began to giggle but he shushed her. There were heavy boots along the hall, “Blast and sear them, that bronze got her away from us,” an unidentified voice cursed.

Another voice further toward the stairs to the bowl responded, “They’ve not crossed the bowl, Mowalth would have told me.”

T’gellan relaxed his grip as Mirrim laid her head against his shoulder. They tried to not to make a sound as the unidentified riders patrolled the hall. When it became silent, T’gellan and Mirrim peaked out the curtain then scurried up the hall. At the stairs T’gellan pulled her toward the council rooms. They ran past the rooms to the landing of the Weyrwoman’s weyr. Quickly they ascended the steps to the rim. Mirrim stopped at the top leaning over to give her legs a moment to recover. Path appeared before them.

“Are you ready to ride a green?” She peered into the dark toward T’gellan’s form.

He stepped up to her and slung her into his arms, “And then I’ll ride her rider. Let’s break in your new weyr.”


	10. Maiden Mating Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some may find the scenes in this chapter disturbing.

At second watch little Path dropped to Monarth’s weyr with her passengers. Monarth was awake enough to grumble that if they had come to his weyr all of them would have fit. Three pair of fire lizard eyes spun red from their warm spots on Monarth’s back. Mirrim dismounted and ran to the great bronze’s head. Pressing her torso against his snout she reached overhead with both hands to rub the sensitive brow ridges. “Six more days, we promise”, she said aloud. “I’ve missed you too.”

“ _Arwith bespeaks us_ ,” Path interrupted. “ _Her rider labors._ ”

Mirrim hesitated only a moment then smiled at T’gellan in the dim light. “Your next child comes with the dawn. I’ve been called to assist Brekke with Talina.”

“Should I come too?” T’gellan asked while trying to gauge Mirrim’s expression but found no distress.

She giggled, “Wait for Monarth to tell you. Get some sleep, love.” She leaned up and kissed his neck then vaulted to Path who leapt from the ledge to fly across to the queen’s weyr that was flooded with light. T’gellan watched from within the weyr how the two of them floated across the bowl and lighted on the lip of Arwith’s weyr. The queen’s head emerged from the opening and dipped in dragonish welcome. The little green touched noses with the larger gold as Mirrim’s agile figure dismounted and ran into the weyr, her hand lightly gliding along the golden’s neck. About an hour later, as the sky had become imperceptibly less black, the three fire lizards left Monarth with several others who then flew to Arwith’s weyr beginning their humming vigil.

Inside Talina’s weyr, Brekke washed the squalling baby and swaddled him while Mirrim cleaned her up and propped her against some pillows. Mirrim dabbed a cool cloth over Talina’s face, neck and arms then ran a comb through the long black tresses and braided them loosely. She handed Talina a mug of watered down wine.

“Drink this, Talina, it will help bring in your milk. Little Tallan will need to suckle if we’re going to shut him up.” Mirrim said.

Talina took the mug and sipped cautiously. She leaned back into the pillows, relieved. It had annoyed her when shortly before the party for the new riders had started that she felt the first labor pains. She had intended to make her presence felt, especially to this pinched-face green rider. Shortly after the music started she called for a healer, but Manora had come, checked her and said she was several hours from delivering. Midway through first watch, Brekke relieved Manora. Both women had spoken animatedly about the celebration but were careful not to mention the only two Talina cared to hear about. During second watch, she came in, looking fresh and carefree. Talina hoped the look of the child was unmistakably T’gellan’s. When Brekke had held the wet, blood-smeared child up, there was no doubt, “Tallan,” she had cried triumphantly.

Mirrim had chortled and added, “With a nose like that, definitely T’gellan’s son.”

“A handsome boy and conceived on a mating flight too,” Brekke added somewhat wistfully. Both healers looked to each other communicating something unknown to Talina.

Finally, the child was placed in her arms. Brekke and Mirrim tried to teach her to suckle the child. “What would either of you know about nursing a baby?” Talina spat, in frustration.

“Healers know,” Lessa said with authority from the entry to Arwith’s couch, “especially these two. How many babes does this make Brekke?”

Brekke shook her head. “I’ve lost count.”

Talina’s annoyance increased. Arwith crooned to convince her to relax like the healers suggested. She didn’t understand her rider’s animosity for Path’s rider or Brekke or The Weyrwoman. Arwith was becoming distressed until Path landed beside her, humming. Monarth warbled from across the bowl and Ramoth looked from her ledge. As Arwith relaxed, Talina did too and the child took.

“There,” Talina said derisively, “I don’t need either of you now.”

“The child’s name is Tallan, then?” Lessa asked pleasantly but only Brekke saw the hard, glittering eyes.

“Yes, a good mix, don’t you think?” Talina looked up from her suckling son to her Weyrwoman.

“Yes” Lessa agreed. “Mirrim, you have flight class this morning. Felena saved you a plate and you should have just enough time to eat it if you leave now“.

“Thank you, Lessa”, Mirrim replied gratefully but she looked to Brekke for release. Brekke nodded and the girl exited.

Brekke finished cleaning with Lessa’s help. As the two women made to leave, Lessa added, “Get some rest and get acquainted with Tallan, my dear. Ramoth will check in with Arwith to know how you are getting along. Brekke, you need sleep!”

Left alone with her son, Talina seethed. She knew from past observations that Mirrim in great spirits meant a night with T’gellan. T’gellan never let her come to his weyr let alone stay with her until morning. Monarth bespoke Mirrim but never her. And she called Lessa by name, like an equal! To find that this aberration of a green rider excelled on her first flight was the last crack in the egg. As a queen rider, she would take T’gellan away from Mirrim. She’d bring her low. Few knew that Mirrim miscarried while in the barracks but Talina was one of them.

By noon, the news was delivered that Talina birthed a healthy boy that she smugly named Tallan, after a good look at the babe. The fire lizards trilled while flying wild aerial acrobatics; the dragons bugled over Arwith’s joy for her rider.

Later that evening T’gellan stopped by Talina’s bedchamber to meet his new son. His happy mood only increased her resolve. He had given her forehead a perfunctory kiss then held his son tenderly. She knew it was useless to work her charms on this bronze rider. He knew his own mind and abilities too well. But she shared his son; sons were paramount in the holds. She had found that although all babies were welcomed at the weyr, bronze riders were known to want at least one son. T’gellan would prove no different.

 

# # #

 

Mirrim and T’gellan entered the happiest time yet of their lives together. A sevenday after earning her own weyr, Mirrim moved into T’gellan and Monarth’s Wingleader weyr. Her mornings belong to the flight instructors. The seven new riders joined the previous 28 werylings in drills. In another three months the other 14 joined their ranks and the more senior weyrlings were assigned to wings. Their duties during falls were exchanging full bags for empties or exchanging flame-thrower tanks out for the queens’s wing. Mirrim and Path were the first of their hatchmates to go between and the second to be assigned to a wing. S’kel gladly took them on his left flank. After falls, Mirrim was assigned to triage. Her training enabled her to a more senior rank. Most afternoons she was in the infirmary or on expeditions with Brekke and women of the lower caverns to gather whithies, berries and medicinal herbs. Evenings and nights belonged to T’gellan and Monarth.

T’gellan woke the morning of Turn’s End, now familiar with the empty spot, still warm, in his bed. Mirrim rose each morning to stretch and work her muscles. While still a weyrling she found that her upper body lacked the strength of her hatchmates. In order to compete with them, she rose early to lift sacks of rocks. T’gellan found her, dressed in her wherhide riding gear lifting both sacks behind her back in the dragons’ chamber. Her movements were measured and steady. When she squatted to release the bags he came up behind her and pulled her back into his chest. “Happy Turns’ End,” he murmured into her ear.”

She spun in his arms and kissed him. “Happy Turn’s End!” she replied. “I’m almost done.”

“This morning you are done now,” he admonished. “It’s a rest day, no thread falls on land AND it’s Turns’ End. You are coming back to bed or else I will need to crawl into your wherhide!”

Mirrim discovered that T’gellan was clad in only a pair of shorts. She pushed him back into their bedchamber and under the furs. “Are you trying to catch a chill?” She teased as she dropped all her gear beside the bed and crawled in with him. “My stars, your feet are like icicles!”

T’gellan warmed himself in the most gratifying way to both. As they rested afterward, he rose up in bed and reached for a box wrapped in red cloth that was set on the press at the foot. Mirrim scooted to a sitting position in order to accept the gift. She untied the knots of the cloth to release the small wooden box inside. She pulled off the lid to find a glass blob nestled in more red cloth. As she lifted it out she saw the three fire lizards, two green and one brown, suspended in flight inside the glass. “Oh” she whispered. She looked at T’gellan, eyes glistening. She looked back into the glass blob, held it aloft as three fire lizards nosed under the curtain and flew to land on the bed.

Reppa landed on her shoulder, keeping her claws sheathed, and peered into it, crooning. Lok approached from Mirrim’s raised knees and strained to look into it until Mirrim brought it closer to her. Tolly lighted on T’gellan’s chest. Quickly he rubbed his head under T’gellan’s chin, a gesture of greetings the little brown had developed with the bronze rider. He stepped across the man’s chest, steadied his forepaws on Mirrim’s arm and admired his miniature self under the glass as well.

“You commissioned this that day in Boll, didn’t you?” Mirrim quickly wiped her eyes then leaned over to kiss him. T’gellan beamed. His patience to wait until Turns’ End had paid off. He nodded. Mirrim quickly rose from the bed which sent Reppa to the air squawking. She padded over to the alcove where she pulled a bigger package wrapped in red cloth. “My turn,” she smiled. “It’s not as beautiful as this.” She held up her glass bauble admiring it anew.

 T’gellan sat up on the side of the bed. He pulled on the ties which fell away easily enough. Inside was a wide belt. He stared at it, not comprehending. “What is it?”

“I was practical,” Mirrim responded. “It’s a belt to wear under your jacket. It will support your back when you ride.” She paused. “You don’t like it.”

“Where do you get something like this?” He asked turning it over.

“I made it. After seeing how you rode and knowing when your back hurts, I knew it was because you needed support back here.” She caressed his lower back. “So I made this to wear, especially for wind pockets. It should help. Try it first before you say you don’t like it.”

“You made it after watching me,” he stated as he stood. “Help me put it on, let me see how it works.” He wrapped the belt across his waist.

Mirrim giggled, “You can’t put it on naked. It goes over your clothes . . . although…” She stood and hauled on the two loops pulling his hips into her waist. She looked up at him impishly.

“Brekke and F’nor expect us in the dining hall,” he laughed heartily, wrapping her in his arms and kissing the top of her head. After a quick dunk in the hot bath they dressed. Holding hands and their other Turns’-end gifts they skipped down the stairs to the bowl’s floor, newly coated in snow.

 

# # #

 

As the second turn passed by the anniversary of Mirrim and her weyremates’ hatchday, speculation on which green would rise first began in earnest. Mirrim and S’bald had drawn first witness. The greens began to sit together for their noon meals watching each other intensely, trying to fathom the signs of arousal in each other and their dragons.

F’niral and H’race were the last to join the newest green riders at their usual lunch table that day. G’lenan made room for them by scooting closer to Mirrim who also moved down the bench until she was pressed against S’bald who hadn’t adjusted his seat.

“Move over, S’bald,” she hissed. “I’m getting squished. She could feel heat through his tunic. “My stars, you’re hot!”

The reaction from the tables around them was immediate as all eyes looked at S’bald who was fixing a malevolent glare upon Mirrim. She shrunk back into G’lenan. “We all thought Path n’you’d be first,” he whispered into her ear.

“Maybe you’re coming down with a fever, S’bald,” she said in a low voice that quavered. She put a hand on his shoulder but he shrugged it off.

“Leave off. Can’t you ever think before you speak,” he replied as no matter where he looked a rider’s gaze was upon him.

“C’mon, we’ll go for a walk, just … we’ll get out of here.”

“It’s inevitable, you freak green rider.” S’bald leaned possessively over his bowl of stew and continued eating, ignoring any other attempt to engage him in conversation. Mirrim was quiet too as she tried to spoon in a few more mouthfuls. The rest of the riders at their table were silently tense while the murmurs around them increased. Abruptly S’bald pushed his empty bowl away, rose and stalked toward the bowl. Like unplugging ears, the usual sounds of lunch returned as several riders trailed the new green rider at a respectful distance.

Shortly after the noon meal, as Mirrim was half way up the ramp to the Infirmary, a green dragon shrieked her boldness. Lieth was blooding her kill. Mirrim called to Path but she was asleep with Monarth in their weyr. “ _Monarth, can you keep her there? I have to go to Lieth’s rider_ ,” Mirrim thought to him.

“ _We sleep._ ” He replied.

The lunch stew settled like rocks in her stomach as she trotted to the stockyard. S’bald was already on the rise before the mating cavern while Lieth waved her bloody head over a fresh kill. She kept dipping her head and rising to stare at S’bald. Mirrim stepped up behind him and put her hand on his shoulder for support. He was trembling. Lieth shrieked and leapt onto another runner, not hesitating to blood it. She glowed. Looking about the bowl’s rim, Mirrim saw several blue and brown dragons waiting for the green to rise. There was one bronze, an older animal, probably one of Feyrith’s time, Mirrim thought. Suddenly Lieth shot straight up in a green blur. The other dragons gave chase, including the old bronze.

Taking S’bald by his upper arm, Mirrim began towing him backwards into the mating cavern. Men were starting to swarm around the pair, first with caresses then grabbing clothing. She heard the collar of her shirt tear.

“Move S’bald faster, Mirrim. Can you get his shirt off?” B’mezal was leaning against the entry wall. Mirrim turned to look at him briefly. The observation all nine greens witnessed back in their weyrling days was nothing like this. In the midst of the linked men she could smell their sweat, hear their heavy breathing and feel their hands grasp her arms and shoulders while trying to touch S’bald. The only other person not linked to a dragon at this moment was the old Weyrlingmaster and he was scrutinizing Mirrim more than S’bald who was being pressed about by riders. As she pulled him into the pit proper she dashed out hanging onto his ripped shirt and holding her own closed. Some of the men were coming out of their dragon-induced trances. Arranging their garb and speaking in low tones, they passed by the two observers, eyes lingering on Mirrim. She became unable to return their gazes. Soon only S’bald, the old bronze rider S’lel and a brown rider she didn’t know remained. B’mezal nudged her, “Pull the curtain on the pit, will you?”

As she pulled the thick cloth across the heavy cord she tried not to look upon the scene. S’bald pushed the bronze rider away several times but before she could look away he had pressed her friend against the smooth wall and howled domineeringly. S’bald cried out as if in pain. She leaned against the wall trying her best not to slap her hands over her ears or lose her lunch. The brown rider emerged from behind the curtain. His eye swollen, his trousers in his hand, he watched Mirrim curiously.

She looked up at him realizing he could read the revulsion in her face. “Your eye, let me tend to your eye,” she implored, falling into the safety of her healer’s training. She took him by the hand over to the basin. Using a cloth from the sleeve of her ripped shirt she washed the cut below his eye.

“T’gran my name, Mirrim, Branth is my brown.” The man said by introduction. “You shouldn’t be alarmed. Each mating flight is different. You’ve done well by your friend, S’bald.”

“You’ve been hit by a fist,” she replied, swallowing a few times.

“S’lel never got to fly a queen’s rider and he feared that with all the competition Tuenth would never’d get close enough to Path when she rises. I don’t blame him for joining a green’s maiden flight, even if it does mean I’ll sport a shiner.” He watched her face wondering why she refused to look at him. “But now I’m glad The Weyrleader closed Path’s flight to bronzes. They tend to cheat when there’s a fresh green involved.” He pointed to his swollen eye. “I for one, hope Branth catches Path.”

Mirrim blanched. B’mezal walked up beside T’gran. “Your dance is over, T’gran. Go back to your duties. Mirrim and me will sit vigil.” Although his gravelly voice addressed the brown rider his piercing dark eyes never left Mirrim’s face as she refused to look at him too. T’gran left while the old Weyrlingmaster escorted her to the padding on the stone benches. He seated her across from him.

“You are inhibited,” he accused. She looked into his face then away. “I knew it. You are inhibited. We can’t have this.”

“Path says she is ready.” Mirrim retorted.

“Shells woman, greens are always ready but YOU are not.” He waited for her to speak while she shuddered at a particularly loud thud behind the curtain. “Is T’gellan the only man you have been with?”

Mirrim squirmed. “No, there’s been, um, no.” But to B’mezal she seemed to be lying.

“Perhaps, you two living in the same weyr is a mistake,” he said after a while. He noticed that she flinched with each sound from the pit. “Perhaps you should move to your own weyr and spend more time with your wingmates.”

She looked away from the old master and refused to look at him long after the noises and associated movements had subsided on the other side of the curtain.

B’mezal stood and moved to face her in his characteristic stance. “I need your assurance that you will be ready when Path rises.”

She stood, stepping close to the burley man, staring into his eyes. “You have it.” He was surprised to find her height to almost match his. As she tried to move away, he grasped her upper arm.

“You have not convinced me. You will be witness to each of your green hatchmate’s rising until Path herself rises.” His eyes narrowed as she fought to hide her distress. “You are no different than any other green rider, girl.” He released her arm but Mirrim remained in front of him, her chest heaving, jaw set, eyes fighting to hold tears. When it appeared that he would finally break Mirrim’s inner defenses, the two men behind the curtain laughed. Muffled dialog and movement continued. Abruptly she stepped away from him as S’bald and S’lel pulled back the curtain. Her smile for her friend seemed genuine as well as her friendly nod to the old bronze rider.

“Mirrim, it’s wonderful,” S’bald said as the two embraced. S’lel threw his arms around the two of them as well. She laughed with the two men as they turned toward the exit. B’mezal joined them, passing the two drudges who would tidy up the mating cavern.

“One green’s rising usually causes another”, he mused as he watched the girl. He intended to bring the matter to T’gellan; he was shaping up to be a superior leader. Maybe he’d speak to Brekke too. She owed him, he figured and she had personal experience of the danger Mirrim faced if she didn’t prepare herself.

That evening several of the green riders, especially the latest group of hatchmates, congregated around S’bald. The bakers had made special spice cakes and some of the kitchen women concocted a hot spiced wine for the occasion. Many of the blue and brown riders stopped by their table in the back of the dining hall to toast S’bald and Lieth for their first mating flight. As some congratulated the pair, they glanced at the other new green riders, especially Mirrim.

F’tamad, D’wer and B’nard sat with their wingmates, watching the new greens. While D’wer and F’tamad mulled over how their blues almost caught Leith, B’nard contemplated Mirrim.

Mirrim looked so much like Bagira, his intended, before he had been whisked away to Benden to impress blue Mowalth. Not that he regretted the incredible shift his life took in less than three days but what he was raised to be and what he was now sometimes depressed him.

He was the firstborn of twins. His father, Arden, had marked him with a cut to his upper arm moments after birth. From a young age he knew he was to inherit the hold and fertile fields above the Dunto River. Arden had arranged for Bagira, the niece of Bonogan, his mother’s cousin and holder of the neighboring hold to the east. He didn’t mind that his twin inherited the land, the hold and the wife when he was removed to Benden. B’nard rode Mowalth and fought thread while they hid. He hadn’t been barred from his boyhood hold but since his father’s death and Bolard’s ascension to Holder of Endyar, he was not exactly welcomed. Twining with Path and Mirrim could satisfy his desire for his brother’s wife. Thus Mirrim and her Path measured large in B’nard’s mind.

D’wer nudged him out of his reverie, “What new green d’you think will be next?”

B’nard stretched his legs under the table while extending his arms above his head giving his neck a crack as he shook off his musings. “Dunno, I fancy Miloth is getting greener.” The three men turned toward C’logar who, at that moment had his arm linked with Mirrim as they leaned around S’bald.

B’mezal, making a rare appearance in the dining hall, moved toward S’lel and a few older dragonriders off to the side. As he sat opposite S’lel and R’gul, both older riders grunted their acknowledgement, suppressing any surprise at the Weyrlingmaster’s decision to partake in the festivities.

“Good health to your Tuenth, S’lel,” B’mezal spoke amiably. “He flew Lieth well”.

“Aye,” S’lel replied rather sullenly. “He sleeps, satisfied to have finally caught one in a mating.”

“Cheer up,” R’gul nudged his hatchmate and lifelong friend. “You gave a good try for goldens throughout the turns. You knew greens were always available to Tuenth.” He paused, “Until Path.”

The other riders grunted. A few gave B’mezal sour looks.

“T’wern’t my decision to bar bronzes from Path’s first mating. That were the Weyrleaders.” B’mezal said resentfully. “You know that Monarth most likely’ll fly Path if the bronzes have a go; T’gellan and Mirrim sharing a weyr and all. That’s what made their decision. Them younger bronze riders are a randy lot.”

More grunts emanated from the old riders.

“What chances did we have,” S’lel protested. “Nemorth only rose four times in her sorry life and Ramoth chooses none but Mnementh. Who’d ever think we’d have three goldens in Benden and them young Bronzes take them every time.” He gestured toward the raised dais where T’gellan, S’kel, B’irto, F’lessan and several other bronze riders were raising their cups in a toast. Their salute was drowned by the din of the green, blue and brown riders’ joviality.

“An’ look at Path’s rider. Young Mirrim with her ripe body, not gawky like Celina or tiny like Lessa or flimsy like Talina, she’d hold up.” S’lel tossed back the dregs of the spiced wine. A few hisses emanated from the old riders and they shifted uncomfortably.

“P’raps you should switch to klah, S’lel”, R’gul reached for the heavy pot in the middle of the table.

“Yeah, cheer up, man”, B’mezal added. “You did well by Tuenth; you’re a true friend to your dragon.

S’lel merely scowled at the table of young green riders.

Mirrim, S’bald and their hatchmates B'salk, F'niral, G'naret, C'logar, B'mir and H'race gathered their cups together as G’lenan poured from a bowl Willa had brought them.

“Careful, don’t spill it”, G’naret said as he slid his cup in place of H’race’s cup which threatened to brim over. His head moved in the way as he slurped the overage.

With practiced grace G’lenan tipped the bowl back without wasting a drop. “Tut, tut, men”, he avowed, “I’ve been pouring wine in this Weyr since I got taller than the tables.” Good natured chuckling came from their table and a few surrounding ones. The young greens were in a boisterous mood.

“Pour one for yourself too, G’lenan”, Mirrim said as she put two cups to the side for him to turn and filled. Once all cups were filled the greens turned to the table of old men. S’bald raised his cup to S’lel.

“To you and your worthy Tuenth, I salute you”, he called out.

“Salute,” his green hatchmates yelled drunkenly.

With some help from R’gul, S’lel stood, raised his cup and slurred, “And to you and Lieth, S’bald, I salute you”. He drank from his cup only to throw it to the floor and roar, “What wherspoor put klah in my wine?”

As the festivities quieted down and most of the riders had left the dining hall, B’mezal hoisted a half-empty wine skin and wandered over to T’gellan’s table. Mirrim had left to help some of her drunken weyrmates to their dragons and he figured she’d not return. T’gellan and S’kel were in deep discussion when he tossed the wineskin to the table. “May I join you, Wingleaders?” he gruffed.

Both men smiled at their former master, “Yes, please sit.” S’kel said while pouring wine into three cups. He lost focus for only a moment as his bronze relayed a request from B’mezal’s brown to let the Weyrlingmaster speak privately with Monarth’s rider. The three men raised their glasses in a toast to green Lieth and her rider. S’kel excused himself and walked toward the bowl.

T’gellan waited as B’mezal warred with his thoughts until his patience dropped. “Speak freely, Weyrlingmaster.”

B’mezal nodded to some internal decision, “Mirrim observed S’bald today.”

“Yes, I knew that”, T’gellan replied.

“I’ve told her she must observe for the rest of her hatchmates until Path rises,” B’mezal continued. “She is inhibited.”

T’gellan nodded his assent. The silence between the men became oppressive. T’gellan drank a bit more wine then shifted toward the old Weyrlingmaster. “You’re a bit inhibited yourself, B’mezal. What’s your concern?”

B’mezal cleared his throat, gulped down more of his wine then looked directly at T’gellan. “A woman on a green is new for us all, an’ I’m no authority on woman behavior.” He poured more wine into his cup and gulped some more. “Benden hasn’t lost a green on a mating flight since I was a boy, but I remember it.” The pain in his unfocused eyes was haunting. “The rider wasn’t prepared. When F’lon made me Weyrlingmaster, I swore never to let this weyr ever keen for such a useless loss.” He finally blurted, “She was distressed, and she may have lied to me, p’raps for the first time. I asked her directly if you’d been her only man. She said you weren’t.”

T’gellan sat a bit straighter and looked over B’emzal head for a moment then back directly at him. “No, Mirrim doesn’t lie; I wasn’t her first … encounter. I suppose you’re suggesting she experience more variety?”

“Aye,” the old man replied. “In a lotta ways, Mirrim was an easy weyrling, more dedicated, more mature than her hatchmates, but I never broke her like I done the rest of you.”

T’gellan chuckled, “That’s due more to her gender. I remember telling F’lar that I feared more for you than Mirrim after his decision that she’d train with her hatchmates.”

B’mezal guffawed then patted the bronze rider on his shoulder as he rose. “Good man, you’ll lead us all one day.” He walked off, unsteadily as T’gellan raised his glass to his old master’s back in silent salute.

Mirrim was one of the most dependable individuals that T’gellan had ever known. She was steady, always walked the responsible course even as she railed at it. As first Brekke, then F’lar and now B’mezal voiced their apprehension over Mirrim’s ability to act accordingly to Path’s first mating flight, T’gellan wondered. They had valid worries but Mirrim would not put Path in undue danger.

He rose, figuring that she’d be back at their weyr by now. Best to get her to talk right away, he thought. Never a difficult prospect, Mirrim tended to jabber when she was agitated. Monarth and Path were curled together with the three fire lizards as T’gellan passed by them. He noticed a wet trail to their bedchamber which continued into the bathing room. He could hear Mirrim splashing.

“Rather late for a soak, isn’t it, Love?” he said as he removed his shirt and flung it to a protruding rock.

“I had to take G’lenan to his weyr and while trying to get him to bed he puked on me. He may boast his ability to handle skins of wine, but he sure doesn’t know how to handle it once he’s got wine inside his skin.”

T’gellan laughed. “I hope you didn’t jump into our pool with your soiled clothes.”

“Please T’gellan, really? I know better,” she replied. “I dunked fully clothed into his pool. It refreshes faster than this one. Got most of the solids off me but, ugh! I can still smell it. ”

As T’gellan kicked off his boots and shucked his trousers he noticed her wet clothes spread about the rocks. He sniffed, shrugged and shook his head. “I don’t smell any sick. So, you came back wet. It explains the water trail.”

“It’ll be a while before I drink spiced wine, I can tell you. I left him propped against Boath in case he wasn’t done. Gagh, it was in my hair and full on the front of my shirt and new bodice.”

 “You’re a good friend,” T’gellan replied as he slipped into the warm water next to Mirrim.

“Oh, he’s going to owe me if the leather is ruined.”

T’gellan pulled her onto his lap kissing her which essentially stopped her prattling.

“Alright, I’m babbling” she said slowly as T’gellan nodded with a knowing smile. “I saw old B’mezal waited for me to leave before coming to speak with you. What’d he say?”

T’gellan paused. “First, you tell me. You observed for S’bald. How’d you do?”

She heaved a sigh then slumped against him. “I don’t remember B’fol’s mating being so violent. Those riders pressed upon and grabbed at both of us. I guess I didn’t move fast enough.” She leaned forward. “Look what one of them did to my back.”

In the subdued light, T’gellan could see the long red finger scrape that started at the nape of her neck and traversed her right shoulder. She leaned back into him and he pulled her close to cradle her. “After, after we left the pit, I took S’bald to his weyr and tended to his back. You know how dark his skin is but he had more than 20 of the same kinds of marks and I could see bruising. A lot of bruising”.

She sighed, he prompted, “Go on.”

“I know S’lel had to be hurting S’bald even though he said it was ‘wonderful'. I saw how S’bald kept pushing him away.” She swallowed. “It scared me and that’s what B’mezal got all huffy about. He says I have to observe all the rest of my green hatchmates’ risings until Path rises for whatever good that is going to do me or Path.”

“Perhaps Path with rise next,” T’gellan offered. Mirrim stiffened. “He’s right, you know, B’mezal.”

“About what?”

“About making you observe for the rest of the greens. He told me that and he told me he thought you lied about having experiences besides me but I told him you hadn’t.”

Abruptly Mirrim stood to face him, the water just above her waist. Her face was guarded; her eyes sea green slits. He reached for her hands giving them a squeeze. “I told him you were no liar and that I wasn’t your first.” She relaxed. T’gellan stood to pull her into an embrace, “but I do agree with his suggestion. You need to prepare for Path’s sake and that means experiencing more men. Maybe a blue rider or a brown…”

He felt her shudder. “Put your crafter sensibilities aside, dear heart. This is for Path, your dragon. When the harpers sing of the deep love dragon and rider have for each other this is what they hint at. It’s why we live apart from the masses.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” She asked.

“Shards no!” T’gellan pushed her back by her shoulders and gave her a small shake. Looking into her eyes, he spied a vulnerability deep inside that he hadn’t seen since the first night she spent in his weyr. “When Monarth wants to catch a Queen, I participate whether the she’s Ramoth, Lamanth, or Arwith. When he flies, I am fully in his control. The nearer he gets to his queen the nearer I get to her rider. It’s powerful. It’s a marvel when he catches her and twines her neck, pins her. You know how, like impression, when you saw yourself through Path’s eyes?” Mirrim shrugged while nodding her head once. “It’s, I dunno, it’s powerful for her too, the queen and her rider. You’ll find out. I can’t wait until you and Path have this experience too.” He smiled widely even as a tear slipped down her cheek. “Someday, after she’s flown a few times and the lesser male dragons are satisfied, Monarth will fly Path.”

“I guess” she said looking away. “I guess I should for Path’s sake. I wish that F’lar would allow bronzes back in. Bronze riders are used to a woman in a mating flight.”

“I wouldn’t say that“, T’gellan replied. Since you impressed Path, I can’t tell you how many blue and brown riders have stated their anticipation of Path’s first flight and it’s because you’re her rider.”

“It’s because I am a woman; it’s not for me, really.” Mirrim interrupted. “Half these riders think I am a rampant harpy.”

“You’re my rampant harpy, C’mon; let’s dry off and go to bed”.


	11. Cross Crafting

The Masterharper rose as Brekke and F’nor entered the council room. Already seated were the Weyrleaders. Robinton executed a short bow to Brekke then pulled the ornate wooden chair out for her. She settled herself granting him a modest incline of her head then faced F’lar.

F’lar gestured to the Masterharper, “Continue, Robinton.”

“Yes, of course,“ his rich baritone voice was pitched to persuade. “Not only for Lord Jaxom and the select journeymen of my hall, but I want to extend these sessions for some of the younger bronzes in each of the weyrs. I have also approached some of the other Master craftsmen.”

“Robinton’s proposal,” Lessa interrupted, “is to assemble a group of young people for cross-craft training.” She faced F’nor but her eyes darted often to Brekke.

With an indiscernible nod, Brekke turned to Robinton, “Who from Benden do you have in mind?”

“I thought of F’lessan first but my journeywoman suggested your fosterling.”

Brekke gave an uncharacteristic chuckle, “Mirrim has no need for fostering as a fighting green rider. I agree with Menolly, though. She is bright, and already a competent healer. I expect soon that Goren will send her to Oldive to sit her journeyman exams.”

“Then, by all means, your approval is enough for me,” Robinton replied.

Brekke smiled inwardly. With these Masterharper study sessions, she achieved the means to separate T’gellan and Mirrim as B’mezal advised. She had also provided herself with transportation to Masterhealer Oldive so that she, herself, could study for her mastery. F’nor could stop his hovering and get on with his duties to Benden. F’lar and Lessa would be pleased.

It was soon agreed that Mirrim and F’lessan would join 28 other young people for studies ranging from metallurgy to star mapping. They would attend four of the sevendays, not counting fall or rest days. Mirrim would bring Brekke to the Harper Hall and on those days when classes were not held there, she would pick up Menolly and return for Brekke.

Robinton was one to never overstay his welcome. After his third glass of wine and a few flakey pastries full of soft cheese, he rose, bowed to the ladies and exited through Ramoth’s weyr to a waiting Fort Blue. As soon as the Masterharper was beyond hearing, F’nor looked at Lessa accusingly, “This is how you put the Lord Holder and Ruth near Mirrim and Path.”

Brekke’s reverie snapped as she swiveled to look at her Weyrwoman. “What? Jaxom with Mirrim; for what purpose? Oh.”

F’lar had positioned himself behind Lessa, setting his hands on her shoulders in support. “Jaxom is unweyerd and Mirrim is female. Path should rise within the next several months.”

 

# # #

 

The day was late by the time the battle over the lowland farms between the BendenMountains and NeratPeninsula was done. T’gellan stepped onto the walkway from the Council Room to look across the bowl. He could see Path pressing her head into the chest of a brown dragon while the smaller figures on the brown’s back were dressing the threadscore. Mirrim would be a while yet before she came to dinner. Debriefing had been longer than usual, especially as F’lar had detained him again to discuss that pair’s impending first mating flight. Although F’lar hadn’t ordered him, suggestions had been conferred. T’gellan said he would discuss them with her, again. He walked down the steps to the bowl floor, hesitant to approach her while she worked. His stomach was empty and his shoulders stiff.

“ _Eat first_ ,” Monarth suggested, “ _then soak_.” T’gellan looked to his weyr but saw nothing of his dragon. Usually Monarth observed Mirrim and Path while they were tending to injuries. “ _Thread fell thick_ ,” his dragon added. “ _I need my couch_.”

 “You must be especially hungry to enjoy that overcooked wherry.” Talina’s voice tinkled as she approached him. Their son, Tallan, rode upon her hip, his fist in his mouth. Talina had regained her slim figure shortly after giving birth. She had lost none of her dark beauty either.

His smile for the pair was genuine. “I was so hungry today I would have found my boots tasty.” Tallan was him in miniature. He liked how often Talina would bring the babe to him. He was growing so fast. The little boy stretched his arms out to T’gellan and he intuitively took the child. “C’mere big boy.”

She slinked onto the bench across from him “I am weaning him now. Soon I will have to foster him and resume my duties.” She sighed dramatically.

He looked up to see her troubled face and wondered why she would mention it to him. He tried to think if there was some kind of response expected from him. “Oh, will you send him back to your family in Ruatha?” Some women, especially queen riders, sent their children back to their birthplaces to preserve blood ties. Sometimes it was a condition during search. He looked at the toddler, stroked the copper hair and felt a tinge of sorrow that he would not watch the child grow the way he enjoyed his daughter, five turns this boy’s senior.

“No, I will send him to Sanra in the lower caverns”, she replied with a condescending smile. “Tallan will be weyrbred and one day will ride a bronze.”

T’gellen looked at his son, “It wouldn’t matter if you ever impressed, Tallan, my boy. It is decided; here’s your home.” Riders were careful not to state whether their sons would be dragonriders too. It was courting failure to assume. However, mothers would speculate up to the moment the shell cracked.

The three stayed apart from the rest of the cavern until Tallan fell asleep on T’gellan’s shoulder. Although their conversation was amicable, both had the sense of waiting. Talina sauntered over to him pulling the child into her arms. She nuzzled T’gellan’s neck before leaving. “You smell of firestone.”

“I have yet to soak it off.”

“Why don’t you come to our weyr”, Talina suggested with a tilt of her head. “It has been too long since you soaked in my bath and rested in my bed”.

“On another night perhaps, Talina, but I need a long soak and my bath lets me stand submerged.” T’gellan rolled his shoulders stiffly.

She smiled demurely and walked away cradling their son. He watched as the pair left the cavern, appreciating her swaying walk. Abruptly he stood and left, tired of waiting for Mirrim, ambling toward his weyr. Monarth was fast asleep in his couch but Path and Mirrim were no longer in the bowl. Well, he planned a long soak anyway. Perhaps Mirrim would join him before he wrinkled then she could knead his shoulders and back.

He was about to get out when he heard Mirrim enter their bedchamber. She walked into the bathing room with a towel wrapped around her. His smile broadened as she hung up the towel and slowly lowered herself into the water.

She dunked under then rose beside him and sighed contentedly. ”This is my favorite part of the day.”

“Mine too,” he replied pulling her onto his lap. “Can you rub my shoulders or are your hands numbweeded out?” He could smell the pungent odor now that she was close to him. He also smelled ichor which meant that brown dragon’s injuries must have been extensive. Numbweed and ichor always brought up the memory of Keth’s rescue and he absently twitched his left shoulder.

“Let me soak a bit, rather,” she hesitated, “I shouldn’t soak too long, just in case.”

“In case what?”

She looked at him, her eyes shining, “I think I may be expecting but it’s a bit too soon to know for sure.”

“You are?” T’gellan swung her to face him, his face slightly wild. “When will you know for certain?”

“Another three or four sevenday,” she replied smiling broadly. “But don’t say anything quite yet, not until we are certain, please?”

All thoughts of F’lar’s request, Talina’s sleek body, his stiff shoulders, and his other children left his mind as he envisioned their child in his weyr. “No long soaks. What else? When will you have to stop riding?” Thoughts of how to bring this child safely into this world warred within him. “When will you tell Brekke?”

A small frown crossed Mirrim’s face before she looked up at him and smiled. “I will tell Brekke when I am certain.”

 

# # #

 

Menolly and Jaxom leaned in closer to Mirrim as she drew the arc of Timor bisecting Belior’s path. F’lessan had ambled away from the sand table to look out at Golanth and the other dragons sunning themselves on the heights above Telgar’s Smithcraft hold. Path and Ruth were nestled beside each other, almost every available fire lizards in the vicinity were nestled with the pair. While the workgroups grappled with their calculations, F’lessan quickly recalculated in his head the ages of the little white and slightly larger green. Both dragons were old enough to mate yet neither showed inclination. But there they were, looking post-coital. He looked over at the two riders, his childhood friend and hatchmate, speculating. How do a juvenile Lord Holder rider and first female green rider in remembered history, react to their dragons’ appetites? Golanth was barely two turns when he caught his first golden, one of the junior queens at Benden. Before that queen had clutched a whopping 28 eggs, Golanth had flown a junior queen at High Reaches. The Weyrleaders were not amused.

Mirrim’s sharp command snapped him from his reverie, “So F’lessan, why do you think that Belior and Timor will swap orbits the next time they are at aphelion of Pern?” The other two looked up at him even though Mirrim’s fuzzy brown head remained intent on the table.

F’lessan sauntered back, “Because it’s obvious that they won’t. Timor always appears in front of Belior.”

 

“Name your proof,” Jaxom retorted with a gleam in his eye. Mirrim excelled in Wansor’s starcraft classes which calculated the movement of the red star and Pern’s two satellites. The only other student more meticulous than Mirrim was Benelek. However, while Benelek lost patience explaining the equations, Mirrim was often sought as an instructor once her officious manner was dismissed.

“Benalek says so,” F’lessan replied as he looked down on the mass of calculations that Mirrim had drawn since he had last looked. He expected such a response to keep Mirrim and Jaxom debating. While Benalek and Mirrim were recognized as the two brightest of the classes, Mirrim would argue her case while Benalek would intimate that only the stupid and uninformed would disagree with him. Jaxom has said that Mirrim was the better teacher for her ability to prove those who disagreed with her were either stupid or uninformed.

“This is important, F’lessan.” Mirrim raised her head. “We don’t know why that occasionally Timor appears behind Belior when they are full but when they do, the tides are different and Pern’s weather is more severe. And, it hasn’t happened in 72 turns.”

“ _I am so bored with this,_ “ F’lessan thought toward Golanth. “ _Ask Path what Mirrim wants for an answer._ ”

“ _Path says the moons are repelled by each other and Mirrim says that you are unfair when you ask me to bespeak Path_ ”, Golanth thought back then yawned audibly, shaking the windows of the hall slightly.

To Mirrim’s credit, she didn’t call him on his telepathic cheating, “Explain then, when the moons are full that Belior appears behind Timor as they cross the night sky yet Timor is always behind Belior when they are waxing or waning?”

Thankfully the gong sounded. The east coast classmates were dismissed as it was their dinner hour while the students from further west would return for their noon meals. Menolly followed the three riders out as first Ruth then Path landed in the courtyard. While Mirrim checked the harness on her dragon Menolly stepped up behind Jaxom on Ruth.

“I’m not to take you to your hall, Menolly? “Mirrim asked.

“Robinton is at Ruatha and sent Zair to tell me to meet him there.” Menolly said as Jaxom shrugged and passed back the safety straps. Berd suddenly appeared before her with a message tied to his leg. Mirrim raised her arm for the little bronze fire lizard to land. She read the message as cold grit flew into her face. Ruth had launched and slipped between on his fourth downswing.

“Well Path,” Mirrim said aloud as she mounted her dragon, “We are to return to Benden to pick up Goren and take him to Master Oldive before I may sup.”

When she glided into the Benden Bowl, Goren and a dark haired woman walked from the infirmary. Mirrim immediately felt coldness in her gut. She felt Path’s rumble between her legs. “Sharra,” she groaned. They had known each other as girls in Southern and sat classes together with Brekke and Goren when they were first learning the art of healing. Sharra was older by a turn or two and they could have been friends but the academic animosity began in that first class. It didn’t improve when both Mirrim and Sharra sat for their journeyman exams at Oldive’s hall at the beginning of the current turn. “ _I suppose I will have to convey both of them to_ _Fort_ _Hold_ _,_ ” she thought resentfully. She directed Path to land at the base of the Infirmary’s ramp. In the receding light Sharra stepped towards them while Goren remained at the door.

Mirrim tried to contain her irritation. Why couldn’t Brekke have simply informed her that Sharra was the passenger? As she reached her hand to assist the tall, dark woman who was cinching her wherhide jacket, Sharra turned abruptly. “Good bye, Goren and I thank you for the afternoon. When you tire of this cold, remember that Southern Hold is always open to you.”

Goren waved from the door, “Always good to see my favorite pupil, Sharra.” He shuddered as a gust of cold wind whipped up the ramp. I may join you tomorrow!” With that he slipped behind the door.

When Sharra turned around she jumped up behind Mirrim, ignoring the extended hand. Mirrim passed back the safety straps. “Tell my when you’re secured, Sharra, then we’ll leave, Are you still expected back at Fort?”

“Yes, Fort. I’m ready.” She drawled in the familiar slow speech of the Southern Continent.

Mirrim gave Path the command to rise. She toyed with the idea of going between without warning her passenger but recognized she was being childish. “Prepare for between, she yelled above the wind while envisioning the fireheights of FortHold. Path popped between, emerging into afternoon sunlight. Several fire lizards greeted them along with the watch dragon. Although Path was small and definitely nimble enough to land within the Harpercraft Hall’s quadrangle, where Oldive’s Healer Hall also resided, she directed Path to the sloping field beyond. Sharra could walk. Berd landed before Mirrim with another note. Brekke would be down shortly and to please stay until she was ready to return to Benden.

Sharra had slid down Path and without even a thank-you to Path for the ride, walked toward the Hall. Mirrim sighed. They were never going to get along. Mirrim soon had to remove her wherhide jacket as the sun beat down on her. She was thirsty and felt the rumble in her stomach. She was going to miss dinner if Brekke didn’t hurry up. Mirrim had dismounted and kicked off her boots by the time Brekke walked out of the Hall carrying two large satchels.

Mirrim felt irritated. By the time her gear was back on, Brekke had huffed up next to her. “These are heavy,” was all Brekke said as she looked upon the green rider with her own irritation. “I could have used your help. One of these needs to be taken to Igen Weyr.”

Mirrim hefted both packs to Path’s neck thinking that they were not so heavy. She secured them with a twist to the front lead of the riding straps. She mounted and extended her hand to Brekke “ _Give her your leg, Path,_ ” she thought. Path complied but Brekke barely held her hand as she stepped up and behind her. “Tell me when you’re secured, Brekke.” Mirrim said as she passed back the straps. After what seemed like too long for a response Mirrim looked behind her. Brekke’s face was pinched in concentration.

“ _Who does she bespeak?_ ” Mirrim asked of Path in her mind.

“ _The one behind you demands I answer her_ ,” Path replied.

“ _Brekke? Brekke is behind me, since when do you not name her?_ ” Mirrim was puzzled.

“ _I do not wish to answer_.” Path replied rather belligerently.

“ _You do not have to answer._ ” Mirrim thought back. “Brekke?” she said aloud. “Are you ready?”

Brekke’s eyes refocused and Mirrim felt Path relax under her. Brekke’s expression was slightly guilty. She hesitated a moment longer then replied, “Yes, ready.”

As Path rose above the fireheights, Mirrim imagined Igen Weyr. “We go between now, Brekke,” she yelled.

They popped into dry, hot air, even at their high elevation. Mirrim was still overheated from waiting in the sun at Fort and this heat affected her, she gripped her dragon’s neck with her legs feeling slightly lightheaded. As they flew over Igen’s star stones, Path bugled her greeting to the watch dragon. They landed beside the Infirmary. Brekke dismounted and tugged at one of the satchels.

“Wait, Brekke, let me get them untied; you’re pulling at the skin on Path’s neck.” Mirrim fumbled at the knot until it loosened. She handed one satchel to Brekke and slung the other to her back feeling the sticky sweat under her wherhide jacket. She wanted to remove her gear but thought better. Few riders at Igen would know who she or Path was by sight but she was becoming overheated. The aromas from the open cooking hearth were making her stomach rumble.

A healer opened the door to the infirmary and looked down at Brekke. “Are you from Master Oldive? That was quick!” He approached Brekke and took the satchel and beckoned her to come with him. As the two continued speaking, they entered the infirmary.

Within two minutes, Mirrim knew she had to shed her gear. She dismounted, removed the satchel, jacket and helmet. Path inquired if she could rise to the heights, the sun was wonderfully warm then sprang without receiving an answer. Mirrim was left alone at the base of the ramp in an unfamiliar Weyr. She walked over to the small fountain behind the cooking hearth. Luckily there were cups available. She drank down two cups of tepid water and thought to dump a third over her head before a drudge brought over a long tube. “Juice, m’lady” the squat, flat-faced drudge said with a curtsey and proffered the drink.

Mirrim nodded a thanks, shifting her load of gear and the satchel. Where was shade in this blasted Weyr? An older woman approached her.

“Green Rider,“ she called as she approached. “Come to the cavern, it is too hot to stand about, especially if you are not…” she stopped abruptly as Mirrim turned. “Oh!”

She thought she had grown accustomed to the stares but as she looked behind the woman, several people were approaching as they realized that the girl green rider was present in their Weyr. A brown rider was the first to respond. He called to her, “Path’s rider; come to the shade.”

She smiled to the older woman as she passed her to the cavern. She gave the brown rider a single-handed salute and he smiled appreciatively but before she could step under the arch, Brekke called to her.

“Come Mirrim, we need to return to Benden before the remedy in that satchel spoils in this heat.” Reluctantly she shrugged to the people and the little drudge still holding the tube. Path landed midway between the two women. She managed to get her gear back on and the pack to her back before a wave of fatigue rolled over her. Brekke was already on Path as she crawled on. The straps were barely passed back before Mirrim gave the command to rise. Once aloft to the comparatively cooler air above the baked mountains, Mirrim expected to feel better but her stomach and back burned. She called back to Brekke then gave Path the command to go home.

Path took the initiative to land before the door to the Infirmary. Mirrim slid off and stumbled through the door. Goren shifted from the cot where he was tending a rider. He rose immediately and came to her as she fell into his arms. “Something’s wrong” she said before convulsing.

 

# # #

 

T’gellan lingered over his dinner wondering where Mirrim was. She was three hours overdue. The fire lizards had looked to him to feed them that evening. While the greens flew off, Tolly had remained with him. The conversations around him were winding down as a few pairs walked off to the bowl while others had begun a game at the far end of his table. Monarth broke his reverie. “ _Path fears. They land at the Infirmary. Mirrim grows dark.”_ Tolly rose and popped between with a shriek. All the Weyrfolk in the hall stared at him. T’gellan had stood, knocking over the bench and plates. A stab of dread like being lost between shot through his body. He ran out to the bowl, intent on reaching the Infirmary while imploring upon Path and Monarth to keep Mirrim here.

Brekke met him outside the door refusing to let him enter. “T’gellan, you have to tell Monarth to calm Path. They won’t respond to me.”

Path’s drone was becoming a keen. Her forepaws were gripping the landing outside the Infirmary while her jeweled eyes, fixed on the door, shone yellow and white. Her tail lashed violently above the sand of the bowl while her wings extended and folded in agitation.

“What’s happened to Mirrim?” His voice caught on her name; his eyes bored into Brekke’s.

Brekke ducked her head then looked directly at him. “Tend to Path and let me get back in to assist Goren. Don’t come in!” She slipped behind the door.

T’gellan looked across the bowl to Monarth, perched on their weyr landing, “Help me with Path.”

Monarth began crooning, _“Little one, little Path, wait with me, wait with my rider. We must wait.”_ Soon Ramoth from the hatching grounds and Arwith from her weyr crooned too. Several other dragons sat on their ledges, their eyes oscillating from yellow to green, warbled soothingly. People stood at the mouth of the lower cavern watching, waiting too, T’gellan stepped to the green’s head and caressed her brow ridges. She pulled back, stretching her neck to the sky she let loose one forlorn keen. Path pulled back from the ledge to the bowl floor. She turned toward her shared weyr and plodded towards it, crawled up the steps then tucking herself into Monarth’s side. He curled his neck over her. _“You must come to the weyr, my love, and wait with us. Brekke promises to call to you when the grouchy man allows it.”_

T’gellan huffed then followed his dragon’s advice.


	12. Breaking Between Dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter coincides with events from Ann McCaffrey’s original trilogy, third book: The White Dragon.

It was close to second watch when Monarth roused T’gellan who had fallen asleep on his dragon’s forelegs. _“She calls for you. Go to Path’s rider.”_

The bowl was dark except for the muted lights from the kitchens and the lone watch dragon’s eyes. T’gellan walked across to the infirmary steps, feeling his way up the ramp to the door. He cracked it open and let himself through. One dim glow cast a faint light on the single row of cots against the wall. It was not difficult to know which one contained Mirrim. Three pair of yellow eyes opened as little fire lizard heads swung toward him at the door. Their eyes briefly swirled green before returning to the light yellow spin indicating their distress. He felt his way to the bed, kicked off his boots and trousers then crawled in with Mirrim who was curled on her side. She roused enough to acknowledge him. Turning into him she pressed her head to his chest and murmured, “I’m sorry.”

T’gellan hugged her close, breathing in her warmth and scent. The feeling of gratitude and relief overcame him as he buried his face into the top of her head. “We have you. That’s all that matters.”

In the morning, Brekke touched him lightly on the shoulder. “Wake up, T’gellan.” She had pulled partitions around Mirrim’s bed and was on the opposite side of the cot. His trousers were slung over her arm. He pulled his arm from under Mirrim’s sleeping form and stroked her hair before accepting his garment.

He dressed quickly then moved a partition to exit. Brekke was waiting for him. She beckoned for him to follow her to the apothecary. Turning she held his arm and looked straight into his face.

“I am sorry about the child,” she started. “I know how badly Mirrim wanted it.” She looked away briefly biting her lip then back into his eyes. “We are giving her a concoction that she will need to take for a few turns.”

“Turns?”

“Yes, turns,” she squeezed his arm. “This was worse than a miscarriage. She will need time, a long time, to heal before she tries again to have a child. You are aware it is difficult for women riders to carry a child to birth. As a green rider, I expect Mirrim to have a far more difficult time, T’gellan. Do you understand?”

He nodded his head.

“Don’t pressure her, please.”

“I didn’t think I had. I’d welcome a child between us but it’s more important that she heals enough for us to try later.” T’gellan thought that Brekke looked stricken. “No? No child?”

Brekke swallowed, frowned then shook her head in a quick jerk. “Turns, this will take turns. Convince her to take this concoction. It works well to keep women from pregnancy. Between that and the amount of flying between that she is required to do, it will keep her safe but you need to do your part too. Convince her to wait.”

“She won’t like it.”

“That is why we’re counting on you,” Goren remarked as he came around the corner from the apothecary. “What Brekke fails to tell you is that for at least two months, Mirrim cannot have sex or bathe in any of the hot pools. She can’t fly between, in fact I don’t want her on Path at all for a sevenday.”

“Oh,” T’gellan mouthed, “I’ll bring her back to our weyr.” He looked between the two healers who regarded each other. “Once you release her from the Infirmary, of course.”

Goren cleared his throat, “Perhaps, for the time of a month or two, she should return to her own weyr”.

“You just said she shouldn’t fly Path for a sevenday”.

“We have all been speculating when Path would rise and now it is essential that she doesn’t”, Goren began, “at least for a month or two. Brekke seems to think some isolation for Mirrim and Path will stave off Path’s drive”.

“I disagree”, T’gellan cut in. “The pair would be better off following routine.”

Brekke exchanged exasperated looks with Goren and heaved an exaggerated sigh.

T’gellan was beginning to perceive an ulterior motive. “Ask Mirrim what she wants. She’s smart enough to follow your advice, Goren, and so am I. She comes back to our weyr and I will make certain that she heals.” He turned to Brekke and in an accusing tone,” What else, Brekke? What?”

She made no reply as simultaneously she and T’gellan clapped hands over ears and moaned. One of the riders in a cot, cried out. The clamor without the Infirmary vibrated through the walls. Goren reacted a moment later. “What is that?” he cried but T’gellan had run to the door with Brekke close behind him.

“Ramoth’s eggs stolen?”

“A queen egg?”

Goren gathered his wits and ran in time to restrain a rider trying to rise and go to the aide his Weyrwoman.

It was later in the evening that T’gellan returned to Mirrim’s side after he had painted Benden Weyr’s colors on her fire lizards. Tempers in Benden had not been so taut since the first days after the queens fought. Mirrim had to forego the lessons until F’lessan brought them to her and Menolly joined her at T’gellan’s request to help her study.

For a few months the Weyr didn’t obsess with Path’s impending mating flight, or the leaders with Mirrim’s pledge to be with other riders. Talina took full advantage of Mirrim’s enforced abstinence.

 

# # #

 

T’gellan returned to his weyr from debriefing after what most wingleaders called a bad fall. Both dragons were nestled in their stone couch; Monarth curled possessively around Path. She appeared greener than usual, he noted. He heard splashing in the bathing room. Immediately he strode to the curtain ready to reprimand Mirrim for bathing in the hot water. He stopped abruptly after a few steps in. The fire lizards were cavorting while Mirrim sat on the edge, soaking her feet and oiling a squirming Lok. She didn’t turn toward him. Kicking off his boots and wherhide trousers he sat beside her and dangled his feet in the water. Once beside her, he could see her puffy eyes and splotchy cheeks.

“You’re crying?”

She nodded, sniffed and wiped the tears with the back of her oily hand.

He sighed and waited for her to talk but she continued to rhythmically caress the little green fire lizard, her thoughts dwelling on some inner turmoil. After a few more minutes of silence, T’gellan stripped the rest of his gear and let the water cover his head. He wanted to remove the firestone smell before dinner. He had the feeling that she’d be staying in the weyr again. After a thorough sanding and shave he dunked under and rose before her to look into her eyes.

With a sigh she finally spoke. “You’ll utter not another word until I speak, eh?!”

“Something like that.”

She let Lok go. “While Benden’s Wings were fighting thread, Ruth bespoke Path and Brekke. I flew her to a beach on Southern. Jaxom was there; he was delirious. He has firehead so I flew to Southern and picked up Toric’s sister Sharra. She’s the only healer I know that has successfully treated advanced cases.”

“Jaxom? Firehead?”

“It’s an affliction that one gets either from the beaches, or shore or plants or bug bite on Southern. We never have figured out how somebody gets it but it has to do with the time of turn and it’s usually manifests itself after time spent on a sandy beach.” She heaved a sigh as fresh tears coursed down her cheek. “Most people who come down with it don’t survive. Menolly has it too.”

“Is she on the southern beach too?”

“No”, Mirrim said while wiping her nose and shaking her hand in the water. She leaned forward and cupped water in her hands then rinsed her face. “Menolly came down with the symptoms at the Harper Hall. Masterhealer Oldive recognized them and she was treated quickly. She will survive. I stopped off to speak with Oldive and brought supplies back to Brekke and Sharra. We built a shelter and after I did all that he recognized me and began ranting. Said horrible things to me. Mocking, taunting things. Sharra and Ruth insisted I leave. So Brekke made us leave.”

T’gellan was pensive, nodding occasionally. Two turns ago when he suggested she spend time with other men for Path’s sake, he speculated that she and Jaxom had trysted. He assigned her current distress to it.

“The day D’ram was brought to Benden”, she continued tensely, “That day, both were here and I conveyed Menolly and food up to the weyr that Jaxom and Ruth slept in. We had an argument and they made me angry. I said things I shouldn’t have.” She looked directly at T’gellan, anguish brimming over in the form of tears. “I’m a contemptible person. I have always known that I am a horrible, contemptible person.”

T’gellan leaned forward to hold her, “Dragons do not choose the unworthy. Neither do dragonmen. He kissed her lightly but the warmth of her lip and vulnerable state boiled over into passion. With a firm grip on her shoulders he pulled back. The look of dejection on her face made him hesitate. “We can’t yet, Mirrim. Not until Goren says you are able.”

She hugged herself and looked down.

“Get some sleep, love. I’ll bring you a meat roll and some wine. You did a lot of flying between for being only just allowed to ride Path again. A good night’s sleep and you’ll feel better in the morning. He pulled himself out of the pool dripping water to the sleeping quarters to retrieve a towel. Once he had dressed he returned to Mirrim who hadn’t moved. He guided her to their bed pulling her clothes off and sliding a cloth shift over her head, settling it over her hips. He pressed her down to sit on the bed then pushed her over and covered her with the fur. T’gellan sat by her rubbing her back until her breathing became measured and relaxed.

Once outside his weyr he crossed the bowl to the Infirmary. Goren was in back with a tray containing his half-eaten dinner perched on the edge of an empty cot.

Have you a moment, Goren?” T’gellan asked softly as the healer looked up. He rose stiffly and directed T’gellan to where his desk and apothecary were. Once by the shelving he turned and looked inquiringly at the dragonman.

“Is Mirrim ready to have sex again?” T’gellan blurted.

“Well, she should wait a bit longer”, Goren said while looking to the ceiling and rubbing his chin. “You have your choice of partners, bronze rider.”

T’gellan made an impatient sound in his throat. “Path is going to rise, probably within the next sevenday. Will Mirrim be able without suffering”, he paused, “damage?”

Goren’s demeanor changed noticeably; his left hand kneaded his right thumb. “Perhaps we should talk to Brekke…”

T’gellan interrupted, “She’s unavailable and will be for longer than Mirrim has before Path rises.”

“Where is she?”

“Mirrim is asleep in our weyr”. Goren stared at him blankly until T’gellan realized which “she” Goren meant. “Brekke is in Southern for at least a month, maybe two.

Goren seemed at a loss. “Tell Mirrim to come by the Infirmary when she wakes tomorrow. I can examine her”, he said with apparent distaste.

“T’gellan nodded and exited to the bowl. His stomach rumbled. As he sat with the last of the available food for dinner, most of his wing departed, he tucked in. When he looked up Talina, Tallan and his daughter Lania, now nine were moving toward him. Lania was beginning to look like the woman she was to become. Her bright red hair of childhood was fading to a blander shade of brown but her gold-flecked eyes were going to be her best feature. They were the same as his and Tallan. Talina’s dark eyes danced when she saw he was looking. The three of them sat opposite him.

“Hi T’gellan”, Lania said cheerily. “Guess what? Tallan can sing the Duty song. I taught him.”

They looked expectantly at the boy who was more intent on crawling under the table. He surfaced beside T’gellan. “Men sit on this side Gellan.” He said with a slight lisp.

With a pat on his head, T’gellan smiled indulgently and continued eating. Lania continued to talk, interjecting a few commands to the little boy who was not going to obey. Talina left briefly to return with a skin of wine and two cups. She poured for T’gellan and herself then said to Lania, “It’s time for Tallan to be put down and you should get to your cube too. Lania gladly moved to the side of the table where her father and half-brother were sitting. She reached up to T’gellan to kiss him on his cheek. He gave his daughter a brief hug and kiss on the top of her head then bent to give one on his son’s head. They left along with the other children who were being shepherded by Sanra and her helpers.

With only adults left in the hall, the atmosphere became calmer. T’gellan turned to Talina, “Alamia had Lania and her other children in the gardens below the Weyr for the growing season. How did you get her back here?”

“I asked”, Talina said, smiling. “Those two had become close this past winter so I asked Felena to trade one of the others for Lania to return. She is good with the littler children and Sanra has wanted to foster somebody for childcare. Alamia agreed.”

T’gellan nodded absently then sipped some of his wine. “Not until I saw her did I realize I missed having her around the lower caverns. Thanks for bringing her back.”

“It was as much for Tallan as it was for Felena”, Talina said modestly then smiled as she took a sip from her cup.

The two finished the skin of wine and walked together to Talina’s weyr. Shortly before the end of second watch T’gellan returned to his own weyr. He picked up Reppa, nestled against the small of Mirrim’s back. She woke enough to spin red eyes at him and hiss before he dumped her onto the press at the bottom of the bed.

Goren managed to find a dragonrider to take him to Brekke under the pretense of examining Lord Jaxom. He returned to Benden and again asked Mirrim to move to her own weyr as well as insist that she continue practicing abstinence. Another month passed with Path still the only green of the hatchmates yet to rise in her first mating flight. Yet one more month passed and Masterharper Robinton suffered a heart attack while witnessing Caylith’s flight for new leadership of Ista Weyr. It seemed the way of Pern to combine momentous events. Leadership changed at Southern Weyr too. A lordling recovered from firehead at Cove Hold where preparations were being made to bring the much-beloved Masterharper of Pern for his own convalescence and retirement.

Less momentous was Goren’s declaration that Mirrim was healed and his covert assistance to keep hold of Path’s passions was withdrawn. T’gellan sought relief from Mirrim’s increasing outburst of emotion in Talina’s weyr while the blue and brown riders continued to monitor Path’s color, appetite and disposition.

# # #

The thick atmosphere of dusk settled over the crowd at Cove Hold. Brekke needed some air after the bustle in the kitchen. From the veranda, Brekke could hear Mirrim’s voice in the study. She had told the dragongirl to return to Benden that afternoon after she had been dismissed by Master Robinton. What was she still doing in Cove Hold with Path so close to mating? She walked to the end of the veranda where she could see the graceful white curve of the cove. About halfway was the back end of Ruth’s white hide and Path curled beside him. Her green hide shimmered iridescently in the fading light.

Brekke let out an explosive breath and stalked to the study. Mirrim almost ran into her right at the door, “Come with me.”

Mirrim huffed, her forehead furrowed in the familiar scowl of impertinence. Brekke stepped into the kitchen then turned abruptly against her former fosterling.

“Take Path back to Benden, now,” She demanded.

“You’re going to force me out of Cove Hold too, then.” Mirrim replied, in a deceptively calm manner. “I had hoped you to at least understand why we had to get out of Benden.”

“She is too close to rising and it is affecting your thinking. Go back before you cause a catastrophe.” Both women regarded each other, pressure filling the room. Path was one dragon for whom Brekke didn’t hear. When Wirenth’s presence died inside her head, Brekke almost lost her sanity but she could still hear other dragons, could bespeak them and they usually answered. Path didn’t answer unless it was through another dragon like Canth or Monarth. She tried once more to speak to Path and failed. “I am trying to help you, Mirrim.”

“Help me?” Mirrim retorted, “You want to help me? Then tell me how you kept Wirenth from rising for almost six turns.”

Brekke reeled back against the kitchen cupboards. Mirrim had to be guessing. She fought to control her shock. Nobody ever had the cruelty to say her dragon’s name in her presence. How could Mirrim have known that particular secret? “You can’t deny Path,” Brekke whispered. “She has to rise; keeping her near Ruth won’t stop her.”

“So it wasn’t simply pining after someone unattainable, then,” Mirrim replied coldly. What else did you do? Was fostering me part of your arsenal?”

Brekke turned away from Mirrim’s penetrating green eyes and paced the length of the kitchen. She spied the tray that she had started for Wansor who was out on the point with the distance viewer. She began bustling to fill the tray. Activity was what she needed while she thought through Mirrim’s demand. Mirrim was no longer a meek and indebted child for whom she could fill with contrition with a severe look. Now a dragonrider, Mirrim was almost her equal.

“Sheath your tongue if it is going to stab,” Brekke said after a shuddering sigh. “You, of all people should, should…” She faltered.

“You taught me to observe; I observed. And I am right, aren’t I. You held your dragon down until you could have the man of your choice and you won’t allow me and Path the same.” Mirrim stepped closer. “You have exerted every influence in your power to separate T’gellan from me. I know that one word from you to F’lar and the bronzes are back in Path’s mating flight. One word from you and B’mezal will enforce lots. One kindness to me, Brekke. ME, Brekke, but you won’t.”

Brekke kept her eyes on the contents of a meat roll, feeling oppressed by Mirrim’s proximity. Only Mirrim could twist her motives into something sinister but her guesses were accurate. When had she become taller? “T’gellan is destined to be a Weyrleader and you are hindering his chances as much as you are hindering Path. Why must you be so stubborn!” she replied angrily.

Mirrim stood beside her, her jaw tight, her hands balled into fists. “You know what is going to happen to me when Path rises and you have made certain that I am alone when it does. Does it please to you to humiliate me? Is this why you took me from that field?”

Brekke’ hands balled into fists too which she pressed into the counter. Flashes of bronze riders pressing upon her in what were the final moments of her beloved Wirenth’s life rushed through her memory. Kylara’s face, inches from her, screaming at the top of her voice danced in front of her closed eyelids. She turned her head trying to keep the images from surfacing. Pridith’s icor trickling down her throat as she bit into her golden neck and pulled her between. She turned away to escape the unwanted memories but the worst was surfacing. Her face and shoulders pushed into the dirt-encrusted, stone table of the vegetable nursery.

“Take that green back to her Weyr!” Brekke’s voice cracked as she tried to keep from sounding shrill. Ruth inquired at her agitation. She picked up the tray, shoving it into Mirrim’s abdomen. “Take this out to Wansor then leave Cove Hold and don’t come back, you ungrateful slut.”

“Sure,” Mirrim responded bitterly as she grasped the tray, “That’s what I’ll be after blue and brown riders have me in the pit.”

“Go, get out, I never want to look upon you ever.” She choked as she turned to hold onto the counter, closing her mind to dragons touching her in concern. She looked to the doorway to be certain that Mirrim had left. Taking several deep breaths, Brekke fought to regain her composure. Berd appeared at her elbow, settling on the counter and crooning in concern. She fondled the bronze fire lizards whose eyes were slowing their orange-yellow spin. She picked up a piece of fat she had cut off the roll for Wansor and fed Berd. Then she put her forehead against his.

Somebody was entering the kitchen, Brekke braced herself for another confrontation with Mirrim but N’ton sauntered in with a jovial hello and walked directly to some cut up redfruit. As he stuffed his face, he turned to her. “I’ve come in for some sustenance for me and Wansor. Knowing him, he hasn’t eaten and will view all the stars in these fragrant clear skies until he faints from hunger or the sun appears.”

“Oh,” Brekke replied, relieved that she sounded normal. “I just sent Mirrim out to the point with a tray.”

N’ton popped a few more red sections into his mouth, saluted and turned to leave. Brekke hesitated, “N’ton?” He turned enquiringly toward her. “Path is close to rising. I instructed Mirrim to return to Benden tonight. Would you please reinforce that?” He stood a bit straighter, nodded then waved as he left.

Brekke leaned against the counter, letting her head rest against the upper cupboard. Sometimes she wished she had not taken Mirrim from that scorched field. But Andemon had gotten that cryptic message to her. If not for the search, she may have been the one left to die by thread. With a sigh she forced herself to think of the difficult nights when Mirrim had nursed her. From the queens’ fight through F’nor and Canth’s botched flight to the red star to each miscarriage, Mirrim’s concerned face and capable hands had been present.

A commotion on the veranda entered her conciseness. She thought she heard Mirrim’s voice. She walked to the side door in time to see a dark figure fly up, circle the cove and wink out. Only Ruth was that small. Good, Mirrim had gone to Benden, where she and Path belonged. Only later, as she lingered in the quite recess of the side porch did she hear N’ton tell T’gellan that Mirrim was not welcomed at Cove Hold or Landing and the reason why. Since T’gellan was staying for the night, she decided to wait until morning to speak to him.

 

# # #

 

T’gellan stalked into their weyr to find Mirrim curled up between Path’s forelegs. Both were asleep. He decided she didn’t have the right to nap through his anger so he prodded her with a boot. She came awake with puffy eyes.

“Indulged in a rare bout of tears, did you,” he said as he stood directly over her.

“T’gellan,” she cowered back into Path who was backing into her couch. Neither was accustomed to this sudden fury.

“Why did you take Path away from the weyr so close to rising and how could you speak of Ruth and Jaxom so rudely? T’gellan grabbed her arm and dragging her up and away from Path. He pulled her to look at him. “I’m tired of making excuses for you. Shells, woman, I was embarrassed to look at N’ton when he told me. Brekke hasn’t been this upset in turns.”

“I only said what the rest of you think!” she retorted.

“You had no right“, he yelled as he grabbed her shoulders shaking her. “How could you say it aloud? How would you feel if it were you?” Mirrim tried to pull away when he pushed her back. She fell hard then ccrabbed backward on her hands and feet, glowering.

“I wish it were me!” she spat. “If Path were an unsexed runt like Ruth I wouldn’t have to face the lust of every blue and brown rider on Pern.”

In two steps T’gellan was upon her, grabbing her by her neck, yanking her to a standing position then shoving her roughly against the wall. Not used to losing his temper and feeling the need to hit her hard, he held her against the wall. “You are a green rider, no different from any other green rider and Path. Will. Rise.”

“I can’t do this; one of them is going to take her. And take me. It’s vile.”

T’gellan slapped her. “Are you going to be like Kylara? Huh?! Think only of yourself and lose your dragon so stupidly? Are you going to be like Brekke and not exert your control? Kill Path? You will do your duty to Path or you will cause her death, you poor excuse of a rider.”

“NO,” Mirrim shook her head, appalled. “I can’t, I won’t let it.”

“Well that’s you, can’t let go of anything; gotta control everything and everyone. Don’t you know Path by now?”

Mirrim tried to grab at him, “No, I love Path but I can’t do this, and I need you, T’gellan, you and Monarth.”

“You’ve never needed anybody and apparently you don’t need Path.” T’gellan strode to the sleeping chamber and thrust at the curtain so hard that it fell. He kicked it. “Until Path rises, you go back to your weyr. I will not be your excuse for holding your dragon down.” He commanded over his shoulder. He began throwing her things into the middle of the floor. She followed him trying to grab at his arm, insisting that she needed him, loved him, loved Monarth and Path. Darkness covered the entrance. Monarth had landed; his wings still lifted, eyes wildly spinning red. His jaws were open, displaying the rows of massive, stone-grinding teeth. Both turned toward him.

“STOP TALKING TO MY DRAGON.” T’gellan shouted. “And you,” he pointed at Monarth with a glass bauble in his hand. It was the end-of-turn gift he had given her. “You, Monarth! I’ve indulged your fancy for her long enough.”

Abruptly Monarth’s eyes went yellow. T’gellan threw the glass bauble so hard against the wall that it shattered to powder. Mirrim crumpled to the floor hugging her stomach. “Please, please not you too, T’gellan. Don’t you abandon me too.”

Path had cowered in her couch. For the first time since impression Mirrim saw through her white swirling eyes. She saw herself in the center of the floor in a pathetic scrunched up heap. She could see T’gellan walk past her, vault to Monarth’s back then the two leapt to the sky, neither looking back.

“ _I can’t be Ruth for Ruth is already himself_ ,” Path spoke, confusion coloring her voice inside Mirrim’s head. Mirrim watched herself stand and walk toward herself in Path’s eyes.

“Forgive me, Path. Forgive me,” Mirrim let tears roll onto Path’s head as she hugged it to her chest. “I love you. I love you more than myself. I will be with you.”

“ _Of course you will be with me. I will rise and fly and dart and evade. I will decide who will catch me but he must prove his worth first._ ” Mirrim pulled back. Her own eyes looked into the depthless, multi-faceted eyes reflecting the exact same green as hers.

“Of course we will, my darling.” She hoped she meant it. Eventually the light from the mouth of the weyr faded. Mirrim picked her way back to the bedchamber. She pulled one of the furs off the bed and piled her belongings into the middle of it. She tied her bundle with their fighting straps. Sitting astride her dragon she directed her to their old weyr. At the mouth she pulled out a glow to be sure it was unoccupied. Path had already rolled into her stone couch. Mirrim joined her with the fur after she dumped her belongings on the small cot in the tiny bed chamber. Curled with her dragon she soon fell asleep.

Path raised her head to look down on her rider with a devotion borne of turns of reliance. Her rider was the most dependable, the hardest working, and the best rider in Benden. Of this she was certain. The big bronze bespoke her. “ _We sleep,_ ” she replied.

The next day was fall over the South Benden Steppes. Afterwards, Mirrim took Path to the beach below the dragon stones to scrub off the firestone smell. She lavished attention on Path by pouring oil over her hide then rubbing thoroughly. Her attention to Reppa, Lok and Tolly was thorough as well. Every few minutes, Mirrim gazed out to the Dragon Stones to see if a big Bronze dragon and his rider were perched on the flattest one, third from the end. She returned to Benden Weyr in time to beckon to Felena.

“Have you time to cut my hair?” Mirrim asked when Felena walked out of her cubicle.

Felena merely nodded and opened the curtain allowing Mirrim to slip in. Eyeing the green rider’s shoulder-length hair she began first combing it out then snipping until her crop of hair was as short as most of the other riders. She could think of little to say given Mirrim’s brooding demeanor. When she finished she asked, “Will you join the kitchen women for dinner?”

“No, I’ve been washing and oiling Path all afternoon. I do need to wash off. But thank you, Felena, for the invitation and the haircut.” She tried to smile but looked down instead then proceeded out of the cubicle. Felena sighed then put away her shears.

Mirrim entered the kitchens from the back hall, gathered some food there rather than the pass-through and return to her lonely weyr. She, Path and the three fire lizards spent their rest day in their little weyr. She cleaned every corner of the rooms making a mental list of items she would need to make it cozier. All the blue and brown dragons took note of where the soon-to-rise green pair had moved.


	13. Path's First Mating Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some scenes that some may find uncomfortable

It was almost noon when Mirrim felt the first stirrings. She was working in the infirmary grinding herbs to powder when an incredible heat pulsed through her chest. Taking a few deep breaths, she turned to Goren and said, “I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah sure,” he replied absently. “I’ll be down for lunch shortly.”

Mirrim stepped out to the landing and looked to her high weyr. Path was an emerald glow with eyes of fire appraising the animals in the stocks. She hastened towards the stockyard. B’mezal stepped beside her. “You must control her, don’t let her eat.” She pushed him away without looking. He came back up beside her, an oddly pleased look on his face. S’bald was on her other side looking worried. Already a crowd of blue and brown riders were leaving their lunches and trailing the trio as all walked to the stockyards. The dragons lined the bowl. B’mezal was startled by the numbers.

Mirrim felt the sudden power of her green swoop down on a runner. She could feel the animal’s beating heart as Path stepped on its neck. “ _Blood it_ ” she commanded. Path howled her defiance. B’mezal stepped up beside her but she shoved him back again. “ _BLOOD IT_!”

Again she could see herself. In a cloud of red stood a puny human on a rise before the hated cave, she felt the puny human snarl with her. A sudden hot desire to taste the blood enveloped them both. Path clamped onto the dying runner’s neck and sucked. She wanted more but when she brought down a wherrie she bit into the belly. “ _Blood it, only taste the blood,_ ” the command came as she wanted to refuse even as she heard herself command it. With ferocity she clamped onto the wherrie’s neck and sucked. Blood dripped from her snout as she turned to see three blues, wings extended, behind her, anticipating. With a mighty heft she flung the wherrie’s body at them and they scattered. Abruptly, Path sprang aloft, a green blur against the cloudless sky. The other dragons hesitated only for a fraction before giving chase.

The first male to reach her, a brown, swung his long neck around hers but Path pushed against him with her hind legs and spun on a tangent which blasted her through the group of dragons still intent on flying straight up. A few were able to anticipate the little green’s maneuvers and changed direction. Two blues regained her, beginning to close around her from above and below. Again, she twirled hitting both with her tail as she shot straight up, leveled then dropped straight through a knot of blue and brown dragons.

On the ground S’bald had pulled Mirrim backward into the cavern reserved for mating flights. He grabbed the tapes of her skirt and yanked down knowing she wouldn’t want it ruined and wondering how he would get the bodice off when he quickly stepped aside. Her foot connected with the belly of burly brown rider who had stepped too close to them. He stumbled backwards.

“Ha HA!” bellowed B’mezal, “Our littlest green is a brawler.” None of the riders, intent on the drama high over their heads, paid any heed. S’bald had pulled the lacing off the close-fitting vest and a blue rider had grabbed hold of it close to the nape of Mirrim’s neck. His reward was her elbow to his solar plexus and his link to his blue was lost. He gasped for breath flat out on his back, staring stupidly at the leather garment he held.

“Give me that,” demanded S’bald as he pulled it from the confused man’s hands.

“Get out of the pit now, S’bald.” B’mezal drawled from his seat. “They’re about to get mean on Mirrim. Path isn’t gonna take just any dragon.”

“Were they like this to me?” S’bald asked, alarm coloring his words. Neither man had taken his eyes off the swarm of men trying to get near enough to the weaving woman at the center of them, her shirt being ripped to ribbons. S’bald backed up clutching the skirt and bodice until he was next to the Weyrlingmaster.

“Each mating flight’s different,” the old rider said speculatively. Another rider had grabbed Mirrim’s shoulder and she body checked him into three others.

Path wasn’t tiring. She was euphoric. The browns and bigger blues were dropping out, too many changes in direction and speeds to match her agility. Three blues were persistent and she was toying with them finding none worthy.

Back in the mating cavern, B’mezal nudged S’bald. “Alright, pull the curtain on that quartet.” S’bald complied. “The rest of you men, your dance is over. Leave!”

Several men were milling about, a bit dazed and more than a few sporting scratches and bruises. As they reassembled themselves a few low conversations, punctuated with expletives and mirth, began. They complied with the Weyrlingmaster and walked out to the gathered crowd. A few exchanged marks as they returned to the lower caverns for their interrupted lunches.

High above the BendenMountains, Path was contemplating to whom she would condescend to submit. Three blues were closing in on her; she couldn’t keep them off her back for much longer. As two of them reached for her shoulder pinions she twisted once more. She heard herself think “ _We are not submitting. Take the one in front of you and be done_!” With a reserve of barely contained fury she folded her wings tight to her back and grabbed the forelegs of a blue dragon rising up to her from beneath. The blue was unprepared and the two plunged in a flat spin toward Pern. Path held tightly with fore and aft legs but the gravitational pressure against her wings was too much. “ _Level out,_ ” she commanded. The blue’s wings fanned laterally giving her the ability to pull her wings out and assist in slowing their descent. He twined his neck and tail with her as they joined.

Behind the curtain, Mirrim’s shriek was feral and triumphant while as yet a nameless blue rider howled. Eventually two dazed riders appeared from behind the curtain. Each sported a swollen eye.

“Ha HA,” B’mezal crowed, slapping his leg. “That’s my girl.”

 

###

 

T’gellan had his wing aloft south of the Bitran Hold when Monarth informed him that Path was blooding her kills. He told his dragon to release the wing. Every blue and brown popped out. F’lessen waved to him as he glided back to Benden on Golanth. The greens formed a small wing then popped out. They were heading probably to a beach or one of the islands. T’gellan had never contemplated where riders took their greens when one of their own took her first mating flight. He would have to ask Mirrim. Then he remembered. It had been several days since she had left their weyr.

When he had returned that night he half hoped she had stayed but all her belongings, save the smashed fire lizard bauble, were gone. When he pushed through the shards of glass he found one brown piece. He picked it up, placing it in his palm, letting it sparkle in the glow light. It was Tolly with the exception of one wing and a foot. He placed it carefully in an old soft hide inside his press then went for a soak.

The next few days he had spent down at Cove Hold. Exciting discoveries were being made and while he was invited to stay, too many of Mirrim’s classmates and friends made it clear that she was not welcomed. He wanted to speak with Brekke who was still tending to Master Robinton, However, he returned to Benden without enlightening any of them. He resumed his duties as others of higher rank indulged their curiosity at the site of their ancestors.

Now he tried to think of where to go as he was adverse to Benden or its environs. He pictured the Dragon Stones below Half-Circle Sea Hold and asked Monarth to take them between.

 

###

 

B’mezal and S’bald sat in companionable silence on the stone bench across from the curtained off area. G’lenan walked in with a basket and wineskin strung over one arm.

“Ah, lunch!” B’mezal sighed, seizing the wineskin and downing a hefty swig. G’lenan pulled out mugs, a few meat rolls and slices of cheese. The men tucked in. “I thank yeh, men. This was the toughest observation I’ve watched in turns.”

G’lenan looked to S’bald, “How badly did they hurt her?”

B’mezal guffawed. “Mirrim gave as much as she got. But one of you will have to run for the healer before they wake.”

“Weyrlingmaster, may I go in and put a cover on them? Mirrim will want one when she wakes.” G’lenan held up a woven blanket. The old man nodded.

G’lenan approached the curtain then slipped behind it. In the dim light he found them close to the far wall. The hairy leg of the blue rider, bald where a slice of thread had burned him, was rolled possessively over Mirrim’s white body. He could see an angry red welt on her upper calf. Her back was dotted with scratches and bruises in the shape of finger marks. He had received the same markings on his back when his green flew her first mating flight but far fewer than she. Stepping forward he glimpsed her face, blanched and stepped back. He fluffed the blanket a few times before lifting it over them. It settled lightly; neither woke. He took two robes off the wall hooks and placed them behind Mirrim.

As G’lenan returned, his face a bit pale, he walked past the other two mentioning that he’d fetch the healer now.

Goren was still perched like a vulture over his faded hide trying to decipher the text when G’lenan touched him lightly on the sleeve. “Mirrim what took you, Oh,” Goren said when he looked at the slight young man. “What do you want?”

“You’re needed at the mating cave.” G’lenan replied.

“Yes, yes of course. Let me get my satchel. Would you run to the lower caverns and tell Mirrim she needs to return to the infirmary now?”

G’lenan gawked at the healer, “Mirrim’s Path has flown; she’s the one at the mating cave.”

Goren returned the same incredulous look at the young green rider, “Right. Had to be a good reason for taking so long at lunch.”

 

###

 

Mirrim’s perception returned slowly. She was bone tired but amazingly serene. In the diffused light she could tell she lay beside another. The gentle touch of Path in her mind reminded her that she was joined with a green dragon who loved her more than she loved herself. They exchanged tender thoughts as Path opened her eyes. She also lay beside another. She knew blue Fidith from the long thin thread scar across his flank and down his lower leg. She could feel the large flat rock they set upon and the bright afternoon sun.

As she tried to remember Fidith’s rider’s name she shrugged into his side and sighed. A sharp pain met her chest. It hurt to bring her hand up to examine it. “G’nag? G’ret! Ooohhh.” A rough hand stroked her hair.

“Mirrim girl, it’s G’net,” the gravelly voice near her ear said. He groaned as he tried to reposition himself.

“Fidith and Path are sunning themselves,”

“On a big flat rock near an alpine lake high the Bendens,” he finished for her. “At least my blue got to choose their landing.”

Mirrim pulled herself up slowly and turned so she could face G’net. She leaned against his hairy chest, worn out from the exertion. When she looked up she exclaimed, “Your eye! Did I do that?”

A few chuckles from behind the curtain reached their ears. G’net lifted a meaty hand to his left eye and gingerly touched the swollen flesh then lightly touched her cheek and mouth. “Yeah, sorry about your lip.”

Surprised, she touched her mouth to find it puffy. He grinned showing a chipped front tooth. “My Stars! Did I break your tooth too?”

This time there was raucous laugher from without as G’net retorted, “Nah girl, you don’t get to take credit for that!”

“C’mon you two; it’s time to rise.” B’mezal called out.

G’net chuckled weakly as he pulled himself into a sitting position. He spied the robes beside Mirrim and grabbed one for himself. Once he was standing he slid into it then looked down where the green rider was curled in her blanket. He kneeled beside her, “C’mon Mirrim, first sit then stand.” She let him pull her up and rest the robe around her shoulders. Once the two were standing he put a heavy knuckle under her chin brining her face up. “You acquitted yourself well, girl. You and Path gave me and my Fidith the tumble of our lives. Shards, this flight will be talked about for turns! I don’t mind telling you, you are my first woman and now I understand what the bronzes get excited about.” He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her awkwardly. “Fidith would have never thought to jump on the front of a green but I must admit it was, ehm, was, it was stimulating and …exhilarating, it was ...”

“G’net,” wearily Mirrim cut in, “Please, Shut Up.”

 

###

 

Goren insisted on examining G’net first. His injuries were superficial and after some numbweed G’net was sent away.

Goren opened Mirrim’s robe and sucked through his teeth. The old Weylringmaster shook his head. “Are her rib’s broke?” he asked.

The healer was busy dousing his hands in redroot before smearing numbweed over the angry bruises. “Most likely cracked; she wouldn’t be able to stand if they were broken. Turn around, Mirrim. Let me examine you from the back.” Both men gasped again at the scratches and bruising not just the customary ones on her shoulders and neck but crossing her lower back and buttocks. There were even bruises and scratch marks on her legs.

“One blue rider inflicted this much damage?” Goren turned to the Weyrlingmaster. It wasn’t the first time he had administered after a mating flight but Mirrim’s body seemed terribly abused.

“I imagine that every available blue and brown in Benden took part in Path’s flight. I’d count that around 115 blues and roughly 40 browns.” B’mezal replied. “I suppose I should have imposed lots.”

“Appalling. This won’t bode well for more women green riders. I don’t like the looks of that knot on her leg there,” continued Goren. “Or that bite mark.” when he looked at her neck. “It broke through skin.”

“Shards,” replied B’mezal. “That means Path is bitten on the neck too.”

“She says she doesn’t mind it too much,” Mirrim spoke.

“You best call her home; she shouldn’t go between until she’s seen to.

Mirrim lost focus then replied, “She comes; she told Fidith to follow. Can I have a soak now?”

Goren looked aghast, “How many turns have you practiced healing? No you cannot. Hold still until I finish binding your ribs. Then I am taking you to the infirmary for the night.”

“Not ‘til after the feast,” called S’bald.

G’lenan and S’bald had been hovering at the entrance and chose that moment to re-enter. G’lenan carried a garment while S’bald held a few items including shoes. They approached tentatively toward the three. S’bald shook out a lacy petticoat. “You’re not putting that on me!” Mirrim growled, sounding more like herself.

“Why sure we are,” G’lenan replied as he held the gown to himself and swayed daintily with it. “You are to be properly feted tonight, Green Rider.”

“Lady Green Rider,” S’bald added proudly, “Your hatchmates bought you a gather gown for tonight.”

“I will wear my regular clothes,“ she rebutted.

“Unless you want to enter the dining hall wearing tatters and shreds, this is your garb.” S’bald replied dumping the undergarment over her head.

Mirrim who was weary of standing naked and battered in front of the four men allowed it. Then G’lenan approached with the gown which shimmered silver green through the bodice and sleeves. The skirt was dark green velvet that came short of the ruffles at the bottom of the petticoat. The two green riders fussed with the garment, unsure how it was supposed to fit. Goren was annoyed that the neckline was too low to cover the scratches and bruises and didn’t hide the bite mark.

“I don’t condone this at all, B’mezal. She should be taken to the infirmary not a party.” Goren was becoming angry. “Mirrim, you will sit as much as possible and you will stay the night in the infirmary. Your ribs are only wrapped and that bite could worsen.”

“Hope the Weyrleaders don’t see that, “said B’mezal.

“Haven’t you heard? They’re in Southern, staying at Cove Hold along with most of the bronzes.” G’lenan replied.

The men grinned. “This’ll be a festival indeed.” B’mezal said rubbing his hands together. I think I will join in the fun.”

The four riders entered the lower caverns amid cheers. B’mezal had tucked Mirrim’s arm in his, after carrying her across the bowl, He escorted her to a raised table where G’net, F’tamad and B’nard stood. Each sported a black eye. They bowed deeply before her. B’mezal nudged her and she reluctantly curtsied. Somebody put a cup in her hand and as one all the blue, brown and green dragonmen raised their mugs. G’net shouted out, “To our little sister, Mirrim, and her mean little green, Path! Salute!”

“SALUTE!” The riders replied and a cacophony of dragon roars could be heard from without. Mirrim drained her cup. G’net refilled it and she raised it while looking directly at him.

“To your worthy blue Fidith, G’net, and to you. Salute.” Mirrim replied, drank and sank into the chair G’net proffered. The rest of the assembly echoed the toast then sat too as the women of the lower caverns brought in the meal. Sanra was seated next to B’tarth across from her. G’lenan sat on her other side. She smiled tentatively when Mirrim looked at her.

“Your gown is stunning,” she said flatteringly but her eyes looked troubled. “It’s a good cut of fabric on you too.”

“Thank you, Sanra. My brothers gave it to me for this celebration.” Mirrim felt herself blush.

G’lenan chimed in, “I picked out the color and fabric.”

“What?! We’re here to fete the best mating flight of the pass, not silly women’s fashions,” interjected G’net. He grasped Mirrim’s hand. “Brothers, I tell you. Our turns of speculations are at a conclusion. She dominated me! My Fidith was taken; we had to submit.” The other riders at the table chuckled. G’net brought Mirrim’s fist to his mouth and kissed it then pantomimed that she punched him.

“I can blacken that other eye for you,” she retorted loudly then leaned into his neck so that her lips were close to his ear. “Please, don’t make me cry in front of our brothers.” She softened her request with a quick kiss on his neck then withdrew.

G’net still held her hand, with a gentle squeeze he smiled kindly upon her and nodded.

She tried to convey as much gratitude as she could in her responding smile which was decidedly lopsided and nodded too. He released her hand.

“Pass those roles down here,” G’net demanded.

Throughout the evening riders had approached Mirrim grinning broadly while showing her their strike bruises or congratulating her and G’net, Path and Fidith. Sanra leaned forward during a lull in the feast. “Mirrim, come with me to the kitchens. The women have a gift for you as well.”

Mirrim nodded, “I should visit the Necessary and I might need you to hold up this blasted dress.” Both women and G’lenan stood to hold her up through the back hall to the sleeping cubes. Mirrim left them momentarily to relieve herself. Both G’lenan and Sanra clucked in displeasure when she returned to the hallway. Sanra kneeled and pulled the petticoat down under the gown then fluffed the skirt to rest above the frills. “Oh, what lovely slippers! They gave you slippers too.”

G’lenan fussed about the collar and sleeves. “We should have thought of a dress with a higher collar.” He said, eyeing the scratches, bruises and bite.

Manora appeared from behind a curtained cube. “Quickly, bring her in here.” and the two pushed Mirrim through. “Well there’s nothing to do for your face,” she took Mirrim’s chin in her hand, examining the bruising which bloomed from her lower lip, across her cheek and down her neck. We’ll hide what we can with a scarf. If only you hadn’t bobbed your hair.”

A few women came into her view. Willa was first, holding several scarves. She gathered in Mirrim’s face and neck stopping her gaze at the plunging neckline where the binding for her ribs peaked out. She burst into tears and turned away. Felena and G’lenan both hugged her and moved her away from the green rider. “It’s OK, mother, she really is fine. They just look bad.” G’lenan patted Willa’s back. Felena, large tears tracing from her expressive eyes held Mirrim’s gaze until she lowered her head into Willa’s neck and sobbed. Manora pulled her around, deftly grabbing a few of the scarves. Draping one after another over her neck, Manora’s eyes began to seep too.

“All of you realize that I have to return, and soon.” Mirrim interrupted. Manora wiped her eyes with one of the scarves, handed it to a woman behind her and settled on a silvery scarf that at least draped over her shoulders and far enough up her neck to hide the bite.

“I hope the Weryleaders stay south tonight. Thank the first shell that F’nor and Brekke are busy at Cove Hold.” Manora said briskly, once more in control of herself. She gestured to hug Mirrim but stopped herself with a shrug. “We’re proud of you.”

 

###

 

The feasting lasted past first watch when Mirrim turned to G’net and said, “They’re not going to leave until we do. The women want to clean up and get some sleep before morning.” Although many of the couples had departed, some riders were drunkenly singing and others with their heads on the tables. G’net rose, extending his hand which Mirrim took, rising rather gracefully for so much wine and flouncy dress. They nodded good-night to the revelers and a few trailed out with them to the darkened bowl. B’nard and F’tamad regarded them as they walked past. While both blue riders raised their mugs only F’tamad smiled. B’nard grimaced, unable to hide his frustration. He felt that he and Mowalth had been cheated.

“Come to my weyr tonight?” G’net turned to Mirrim curiously.

“She’s to spend the night in the infirmary,” an imperious voice came from the dark. Goren appeared, looking haggard and angry.

She laid a hand on G’net’s arm smiling and shaking her head. Path approached with Fidith close to her flank. Turning to Goren she replied, “Get some sleep tonight, Goren. I will report to you in the morning.” With that she crawled onto her green and they leapt into the dark. S’bald and G’net regarded each other briefly then both mounted to Fidith’s back. Other dragons were landing. Goren could feel them through the soles of his boots. He wearily strode back up the ramp and into his tiny dominion in this blasted Weyr. He passed by the concoction of fellis juice and boneset he had prepared and fell into the first cot, dead asleep.

Mirrim and Path landed on the lip of their small weyr. She had balled up the scarf and flung it on the floor. The dress lay where it fell from her shoulders once she figured out the clasps at her waist. The petticoat was the next pile in the trail to her room. From the press she took a light shift. Gratefully she slipped it over her head feeling its familiar folds slide over her hips and to her calves. For a moment she thought to tear off the binding but remembered her training. She dragged the rush-bag and fur from her bed back to Path’s couch.

Path was seated. Her head up, slowly bluish green eyes swirled. Mirrim looked at the bandaging on her green’s neck. Touching the wound on her own, Mirrim thought, “ _Who do you think bit us, love?_ ”

“ _He was not worthy_.” Her dragon replied, a trace of red shot through the facets of her jeweled eyes.

Mirrim lay down on the rush bag where she had placed it and covered herself in the fur. Path reached out with a strong forepaw and pulled her rider closer to her then curled her neck above her riders head, sighed and drifted to sleep. Three fire lizards alighted and nestled next to their mistress and were soon asleep too.

Mirrim was awake still. Now that the unpleasant event was over she felt her aches all over her body as she tried to relax. It ached from the cuts scabbing over on her back and neck. It ached from the deep bruising on her chest and legs. It ached deep inside her where she had only welcomed T’gellan’s touch before.

The vision of G’net’s surprised face close to hers when she had jumped on him, impaling herself kept surfacing. It had been intensely gratifying. He had fallen back clutching her to him then she felt the fall from the sky, the urgency, the rush of desire and fury that came from the dragons. When Fidith unfolded his wings and Path matched him at her command the incredible harmony of four minds overwhelmed her and she shifted in her bed only to feel the stab at her side and the sensation was gone. What had been said about a green’s mating flight was true. It was exhilarating and indescribably delicious. How could S’bald have described it as merely “wonderful’?” Mirrim, as a mere woman had shared in what only queen riders had experienced in known memory. Brekke had missed it; would never know it. Finally sleep overtook her.

 

###

 

T’gellan had observed enough from his vantage by the night hearth. The few bronze riders had retreated from the main dining area knowing that this auspicious occasion belonged to the brown, blue and green riders. The first woman green rider in remembered history had partaken in a ritual so closed that few but dragonmen knew it. By all accounts the flight had been wildly successful. By the sounds in the main cavern and from the bowl, the rank and files of Benden fighters were satisfied. He shifted so that he could no longer see the raised table. Mirrim’s three fire lizards were perched above the hearth, dozing. He had fed them earlier in the evening when he returned to Benden with his news of Southern.

T’gellan had stayed by the night hearth most of the evening. He had been aware of every move Mirrim had made and was both dismayed and relieved when she finally left with G’net. He had seen the somber faces of the women after they had finally gotten her away from the riders. Willa never returned to their table and Felena had begged off spending the night with S’kel, going to bed early. He was shaking the last drops out of a wineskin when B’mezal flung a new one on the table. “May I join you Wingleaders?”

S’kel roused himself. “Sit, sit, Weyarlingmasster. I’ll ssshare another cup or two with you then I am off to my weyr. It shounds, ahem, ssounds like the fete is winding down.”

T’gellan cracked a smile, “Perhaps, S’kel, you should crawl to your weyr now and not indulge in another cup.”

With mock dignity, S’kel stood, bowed and began ambling towards the bowl. “Perhapsss,T’gellan, I ssshall.” He bumped into tables and a few drudges who were cleaning up as he exited.

“Still listing to the left, I see.” B’mezal mused as he filled both cups.

“That’s why I put his wing to my right. Gets the thread.” T’gellan chuckled.

Both men were quiet with their thoughts until B’mezal raised his cup in a toast, “To Path’s first mating flight.”

T’gellan returned the toast “And her rider, good health.”

Both drained their cups and T’gellan refilled them. “Speak freely Weyringmaster. You have something to say.”

B’mezal regarded him soberly for all the wine he had consumed. “I have never observed a more violent mating flight nor so many dragons go after one green. I have to marvel at the girl for joining her brothers tonight. She should have been taken to the infirmary and dosed heavily with fellis.”

“Goren assured me that he’d make her stay tonight in the infirmary,” T’gellan replied.

B’mezal nodded. He felt that he had intruded enough and that her lover would take over her care. The old Weyrlingmaster rose and stumbled to his dragon leaving the bronze rider with half a wineskin and heavy conscience. T’gellan slowly walked to his weyr. Monarth slept fitfully. He grabbed his fur and curled up, still in his clothes, next to his dragon that immediately calmed.

He would talk to her tomorrow. She’d return to his weyr. He’d give her a child. Monarth would fly Path next time. But guilt took over his plans and for the first time since childhood, he cried himself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I outlined this story, I dreaded writing this chapter and I rewrote it several times before I felt it was postable. I'm sorry that it took thirteen chapters to get T'gellan and Mirrim to this event. This should be the halfway point although it was envisioned closer to the beginning. 
> 
> So I hope you, the reader, can believe that T'gellan, Mirrim, their fellow riders and the women of the lower cavern could have reacted like this. None of them would have known what to expect when the first woman rider was linked to her green during their first mating flight and they would have relied on their traditions. Going forward, this story shows how those traditions fail them.
> 
> The times, they are a changing.


	14. Acting Weyrleader

**Chapter Fourteen**

In the predawn light T’gellan woke with a start. His neck was stiff from lying on Monarth’s foreleg. Monarth was awake, regarding his rider with pale yellow eyes. He rose and walked to his bed chamber to change into less rumpled clothes and splash some water on his face. As he returned to Monarth he asked, “Well?”

“ _They are in their weyr._ ”

Clarity hit as he realized that Mirrim had not gone to the infirmary. T’gellan flew down the steps and across the bowl. As he burst into the infirmary, Goren woke with a start knocking over the cot and the cup of medicine he had prepared for Mirrim the night before.

“You said she’d stay the night here!” T’gellan accused.

Goren, sprawled on the floor, rubbed his eyes and looked up at the tall rider. “Yeah, as if I could command her any better than you. I stayed up until she left the cavern then she refused to comply. Flew off on her dragon, I suppose, to her high weyr. Said she’d comply in the morning.” Goren got to his knees then painfully rose.

“That’s where Monarth says she is, sleeping.”

“Well, then,” Goren continued as he retrieved the cup, held it upside down then looked inside at the gelled mass, “she’ll wake up sore, probably too sore to get back down here unassisted. Take your great bronze beast and retrieve her before the rest of the Weyr wakes. I hope the binding on her ribs didn’t loosen.” He walked to the back of the infirmary unshielding glows then turned to T’gellan who hadn’t moved.

“Go, go,” he said, making shooing gestures with his hands.

“I can’t,” T’gellan replied. “Monarth is too big for her weyr. We can’t land.” His brow furrowed, at a loss for his next course of action. Suddenly he tore towards the door, “I’ll see who is on the heights. I’ll be right back.” Calling to his dragon to land in the bowl, he exited the infirmary.

 

###

 

Mirrim hadn’t slept well at all. She wished that she had at least gotten a dose of fellis the night before but she wanted to be alone with Path and was tired of men, including Goren. She had asked Path to bespeak Boath, G’lenan’s dragon, as soon as they woke. Even S’bald’s Lieth had become too big for the lip of her weyr.

Path was agitatedly droning again. Mirrim was trying her best to not let Path know how difficult it was to move. She heard Boath in her mind along with Path and breathed a sigh of relief. She was sorry she hadn’t hung up the dress, scarf and petticoat now. G’lenan would find how she left them the night before. She was certain the gather gown had been his idea. The opening to her weyr darkened. G’lenan was beside her in a moment.

“Do me this favor, G’lenan,” she asked as his face came into view. “Would you be a dear and hang up my gather gown and scarf. I don’t want S’bald or F'niral to find out I left them on the floor last night.”

G’lenan shook his head, seeing through her ruse. “We’ll get you to the infirmary first then I’ll come back and clean up this messy excuse of a weyr.”

Mirrim tried to instruct G’lenan on how to lift her but she cried out enough to make both dragons croon with worry. Boath lay flat so that G’lenan could strap Mirrim to her neck. He sat behind her and leaned forward with one arm around her. “Take us down, Boath.” The green dragon crawled to the lip then snaked out her wings to glide to the bowl floor. She landed on the ramp to the infirmary. Path landed on the ledge above, her eyes spinning yellow. Monarth was perched on his ledge across the bowl watching the scene so that T’gellan knew what to expect as he opened the door.

Mirrim was unconscious. G’lenan held her limp body as T’gellan quickly unstrapped them then gingerly pulled her into his arms. She moaned. G’lenan opened the door then all slipped through.

Goren was still marveling at the gelled concoction of boneset and fellis that he was unprepared to receive T’gellan’s burden. He quickly pulled a table out and instructed that she should be laid upon it. “Go now, T’gellan, G’lenan” He had already turned to his shelves pulling a light blanket and wedge-shaped pillow along with a sharp knife that he was surprised to find the riders still standing over Mirrim.

“Go!, No wait!” Goren said as he looked down on Mirrim. “Get Brekke. NO, not Brekke, Get Manora, if she’ll come, or Sanra or Willa, get one of the women!”

Both dragon riders struggled through the infirmary door at the same time then fled down the ramp. At the bottom, T’gellan hesitated as G’lenan disappeared through the wide, low opening to the lower caverns. He straightened, turned and deliberately ascended the slope back into the infirmary. “You need help now. Manora is tending to breakfast.”

Goren looked up holding a shred of the binding he had removed. “No, T’gellan, I will not work on her while you are present. You won’t understand my ministrations any better than I understand your rituals. Please leave.”

“I’m all you have for an assistant. She’s my werymate. I owed it to Path to stay.” He knew it wasn’t a good enough reason for the crotchety healer but his unease of the last few months had become desperation. He didn’t want to divulge the conflict between Monarth and him since kicking Mirrim and Path out of his weyr.

“Precisely why you cannot stay,” Goren had moved in front of Mirrim’s table approaching T’gellan. He was an old hand at kicking weyrmates out of his infirmary. His heart was heavy enough knowing he had to work on his journeywoman. He wasn’t about to let this man know his new-found aversion to dragonriders.

Willa had entered through a side passage directly behind T’gellan. Placing her hand on his arm, she looked into his face. “Please leave, T’gellan. You can come back once we have her settled.”

Gently he removed her hand, spun on a heel and walked out, defeated.

 

###

 

Willa entered the large dining area toward lunch time. She nodded to T’gellan which was all the indication he needed to return and sit vigil.

“She’ll not wake until right before sunset,” Goren drawled from his apothecary. “Get something to eat, feed or oil or fly your dragon. You look terrible.” T’gellan stayed, stroking her face, pushing back her hair. He pulled the light blanket up to her neck so he didn’t have to see the bruising and scrapes. The last thing she had said to him was “Not you too; don’t you abandon me too.” He held his head in his hands.

Two hours into his bedside brooding, Mornath bespoke him, “ _The Weyrleader calls you to council._ ”

“ _Will Path answer you_?” T’gellan thought back.

“ _She waits for dusk”,_ Monarth answered. _” Why dusk?_ ”

“ _The sleep potion will wear off by dusk and Mirrim will wake_.” T’gellan thought toward Monarth.

“ _The Weyrleader calls you to council._ ”

T’gellan stood and walked through Willa’s hallway not at all surprised to find it intersected with the larger hall to council chambers. He was one of the last Wingleaders to arrive. N’ton was present as well as Benden’s three junior queens. In his hands was the familiar basket of marbles. He wondered what kind of lots involved FortWeyr too. Talina beckoned to him, excitement dancing in her dark eyes. F’lar raised his arms for silent. “Landing needs a Weyr“. Spontaneous chatter erupted. “Each Weyr except Southern will send a wing,” F’lar raised his voice. “Talina and Arwith of Benden go.” Several riders congratulated her.

As the basket of marbles came by T’gellan drew the black with bronze strip. Not only had his wing become part of Landing’s new Weyr but he was acting Weyrleader until one of the queens rose. He looked to F’lar who beamed, then to Talina beside him, triumphant eyes shining.

“ _Monarth, call my full wing to the side council cavern_ ,” T’gellan thought toward his dragon. “ _Bespeak Formarth and relay to S’lozan the news. I will be there soon_ ”. The three Weyrleaders and queen rider sat to table and began planning. N’ton excused himself and the basket soon after to fly to High Reaches for their contribution.

 

###

 

When T’gellan returned to the infirmary at dusk, Mirrim was awake and speaking low with G’lenan who was leaning far enough over to rest his arms on her cot. One hand played with her cropped hair above her ear and the other cupped his chin. Her hand rested on his shoulder. As T’gellan walked toward the back, Mirrim looked up at him and merely nodded. G’lenan rose to face T’gellan.

Saluting, G’lenan said, “Congratulations Wingleader to your promotion to Landing Weyr.”

T’gellan, returning the salute the holding his hand out, replied, “I thank you, green rider G’lenan. I believe you said you wanted to remain at Benden. I have already been approached by a few riders who want to switch to our wing.”

“Yes, I do wish to stay,” G’lenan said, first gripping T’gellan’s forearm then looking down. “I also don’t want to leave your wing.”

T’gellan nodded. “S’lozan wanted to be selective on who trades out. He’s already told me that he’d rather you go with us. You do have three more days to make a decision. At least visit Landing. Mirrim can vouch for its...”

“Yes, Wingleader,” G’lenan interrupted then nodded, “Our wing does have much to decide in three days.” He looked briefly to Mirrim in sorrow then exited.

T’gellan sat and reached for Mirrim’s hand. He noticed the bruised and cut knuckles. He brought it to his lips for a kiss then lowered his head as he tried to think how to begin now that she already knew about his re-assignment. When he finally looked up he saw that her gaze has not left him. “ _I can’t feel her, Monarth,_ ” he pleaded. “ _Please tell me what she thinks._ ”

Monarth did not reply.

“You didn’t submit,” He finally stated.

She sighed. “It is not in our nature.”

“I should have insisted on Monarth in Path’s first mating flight.”

“I doubt it would have made a difference.” She tried to pull her hand away but he held onto it.

“I should have listened to you rather than F’lar or B’mezal or Brekke or any of the blue and brown riders. I left you to face them alone.”

“I wasn’t alone, T’gellan,” Mirrim cut in. “Path and I were together. You did help me come to terms with her rising. Those few days in our own weyr… we needed that. And we’re … what’s been said about a green’s mating flight,” she smiled and sighed, “too true.”

“You were beaten, worse than anything done to you at the Farmcrafthall.” T’gellan spat. Mirrim pulled her hand away and shifted uncomfortably on her cot. They were silent with their own thoughts.

When he looked up at her, her eyes were closed. The swelling on her cheek and lip were down but now they were a pre-dawn purple. “G’lenan told you about the new Weyr in Southern, eh?”

“Yes. Congratulations, T’gellan. You will make a superb Weyrleader.” She replied with a small smile.

“I’m only acting Weyrleader until one of the queens rises.”

Mirrim opened her eyes and chuckled, “In three months Arwith will rise and only Monarth will catch her. You will be Weyrleader.”

T’gellan touched her face lightly on the uninjured side. “G’lenan wants to stay at Benden. I know we decided you shouldn’t be in my wing but trade with him. You can switch out once we’re at Landing.”

She looked away.

“Mirrim, I can’t just take you from Benden.”

“I’m not going,” she replied.

T’gellan leaned back, stood then sat back on the stool. With an oath under his breath he continued, “If you think I’m best to be Landing’s Weyrleader then who best to stand beside me than you? You grew up in Southern. You’re a journeyman Healer. You know the duties of a headwoman and you’re a dragon rider. I need you. The new Weyr needs you.”

“If I go, then Talina will never allow Arwith to be caught by Monarth and I won’t be the cause of that. Besides, I am banned, remember?”

T’gellan smiled grimly, “Have you no faith in Monarth?”

“This I know, love, I had control of Path on her first mating flight. Every last one of you told me it was not possible, even warned against it. What problems will Talina cause if I am at her Weyr too? No, Brekke saw it turns ago. She said you were destined to be a Weyrleader and I am not going to be the reason why somebody else leads Landing’s new weyr. Not when F’lar and F’nor groomed you for it. Look at all the Benden-trained Weyrleaders: T’bor at High Reaches, and N’ton at Fort. This is your part of F’lar’s plan to preserve Pern.”

“You give Talina too much credit.”

“You don’t give her enough.”

“I love you, not her.”

“That’s not the point,” Mirrim rose in her bed then abruptly lay back down, grimacing. “Her ambitions, she aspires to be like Lessa. She fancies their resemblance makes them kin. Both Ruathan, both queen riders and now she has the opportunity to be the foremost Weyrwoman of a brand new weyr. And she knows like the rest of the women at Benden, you are destined to be Weyrleader. She wants you, without me. Never me.”

T’gellan had been shaking his head even though he saw her logic. He knew Talina too well. Mirrim was right. “I can’t just let you go.”

“T’gellan, I let you go.”

They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity; Mirrim broke the lock on his eyes by looking away. Quietly she said, “I’m always going to love you but I am a green rider and green riders know: We can’t keep a hold on a bronze.”

“This isn’t the end of us,” T’gellan said as he rose. He looked down on her waiting for her to look at him. Goren walked around the corner of the apothecary and waved the dragonman away. He gave Mirrim one more look then stalked towards the door. Monarth met him at the ramp. T’gellan hefted to his back and fastened his riding straps. As they rose, he imagined the dragon stones. He needed to think.


	15. Landing's New Weyr

The six Bronze and three Golden dragons with their riders appeared simultaneously above Landing’s dig site. T’gellan on Monarth and Talina on Arwith were the first to land at the edge where eight buildings had been excavated down to the smooth stone walkways. T’gellan, who had seen the site only a sevenday before, marveled at the amount of work that had been accomplished.

“Dismount, quickly, Talina,” he called over to the queen rider. “Nine dragons will not fit in this clearing.” Monarth had already departed for the sunny heights above Landing as another queen and her rider landed.

Talina looked about her with awe as did the other woman who quickly dismounted. T’gellan bowed to the woman taking her by the elbow and escorting her to the first building. “Greetings rider of Miridath, I am T’gellan of Bend-“

“T’gellan of Benden”, she cut in quickly, “you are legend!” She laughed huskily. “I am Volkona of Fort”. Her dragon lifted and a bronze replaced her.

Talina came tripping up to the pair, as Arwith side stepped to make room for the third golden. T’gellan glanced at her then Arwith and back with hardness in his eyes until Arwith lifted. The rest of the riders were walking up from the meadow looking about their surroundings with amazement. T’gellan turned to Talina in a gesture of utmost respect, “Talina, rider of Golden Arwith; this is Volkona, Golden Miridath’s rider of Fort. Volkona, taller and of greater size, faced the slight, dark beauty with her arms held out, palms down in greeting.

Talina hesitated only for a moment before lifting her arms in greeting and pressing her palms to the larger woman. “I greet you, Volkona of Fort.”

“I greet you, Talina, Arwith’s Rider of Benden,” Volkona replied smoothly as she stepped back and locked her arm with the man who stepped up to her side. “This is Bronze Ioth’s rider, F'nton of Fort.

F’nton had an easy smile and piercing blue eyes that surveyed Talina with obvious pleasure. “I greet you, Talina of Benden.” He turned to T’gellan and both men gave the salute of equals then grasped each other’s arms in familiarity. “It’s good to see you again, T’gellan. N’ton sends his greeting.”

T’gellan laughed heartily as he slapped the shorter man on the back. “Congratulations on making Wingleader in time to join this endeavor. It makes for two of N’ton’s former Wingseconds.”

They turned together to greet the other four bronze riders, while the two queen riders stepped back. P'wer, Bronze Boranth rider was from Ista and most likely the youngest rider. Nogirith’s rider, S'form of High Reaches was a hatchmate of T’gellan’s and conveyed his Weyrleader M’rand’s greetings. The two of them greeted each other with the familiar embrace of brothers. K'lomar hailed from Telgar and rode Keith. H'rogan hailed from Igen and was Trebenath’s rider. He was tanned dark with beetle black eyes and white, even teeth. He introduced his Weyrwoman, Delianna, rider of Golden Namanth. A tall blond of generous proportions, her appearance was reminiscent of Kylara but her smile was genuine as she greeted the other two Weyrwomen, matching Volkona in height and Talina in beauty.

With introductions completed and the air of suppressed excitement growing around the leaders of the next weyr of Pern they appraised their surroundings. Taking Talina’s elbow, T’gellan led them into the one building he knew. It was the first in a semi-circle of buildings. Its use deemed to be a Harper Hall for the youngest of children. He was glad to see that the trestle table and benches were still in the front room. He escorted Talina to be seated first; P’wer was quick to sit next to her on the bench. H’rogan guided Delianna to sit next but put himself next to P’wer. S’form opted to sit opposite T’gellan and Talina. F’nton led Volkona to sit next to S’form then he took the spot next to her. K’lomar, by default, sat next to F’nton, pleased to be able to look directly at Delianna as well as turn his gaze to view Talina.

T’gellan nodded to himself evaluating where the riders seated themselves. He rolled the black marble with the bronze stripe inside his pocket then released the tube that was slung across his back. Pulling a scroll and unrolling it he began speaking, “Our first task will be to choose a site for our new Weyr”.

S’form interrupted, “Don’t we settle here, at the ancient’s original site?”

T’gellan shook his head. “No, it’s not big enough to hold a weyr and there’ll be too much activity here. The other Weyrleaders agree that this site is the domain of all Pern as it is the site where our ancestors left their ships, the dawn sister stars.” He pointed up, “to here, Landing. I was here five days ago and only this building had been excavated. Mastersmith Fanderel and Masterminer Nicat have flooded this area with their people but this part of the southern continent is still considered Dragonrider land. Here, take this end, K’lomar.”

K’lomar stood to reach the scroll across the table. Delianna stood too, taking one edge and holding it down to the table.

“What thin hide, no this is paper!” she exclaimed as she smoothed her hand over the map.

“Yes, this is a copy of the map found in the space ship that brought our ancestors from the Dawn Sisters. One of the Harpermaster’s journeymen drew this for our use. Talina run outside. Find some rocks so we can free our hands. All of us need to take a good look at this map”. For a moment she hesitated, pursing her lips. P’wer nudged her as he swung a leg over the bench.

“C’mon Talina, let’s collect rocks”, he was already to the doorway where the slide had been propped open by a flat grey rock. “See,” he said pointing at it, “They’ll be easy to find.” He didn’t wait for her.

T’gellan gave her the same hard stare when Arwith hadn’t made room for the other dragons until Talina rose gracefully and walked out the door.

“What we should do,” Volkana said to cover the silent reprimand her new Weyrleader had just imposed on the other queen rider, “is move that bench and look at this map in the direction of the writing”. She and the riders on her side stood as one and pushed the bench to the wall.

P’wer ran back into the room carrying one big, flat rock. “Look how easily this rock breaks up,” he said as he brought it down on a raised knee which broke it neatly in half. He handed one half to H’rogan who snapped it and handed a piece to Delianna. She placed it on a corner as he placed the other, smoothing the curl of the paper. P’wer placed his two pieces on the other side. Talina had stepped next to P’wer at the near end as T’gellan had moved to the middle.

Several of the riders exclaimed awe at the size of the southern continent after each had located their own weyr in the north. “The Island of Ista is positively puny”, P’wer said mostly to himself but he smiled broadly at Talina before turning his attention back to T’gellan.

“This is Landing, as it appeared when the ancients lived here. The harpers added Cove Hold and the other inhabited hold in the East: Paradise.” He pointed at each mark on the map as he spoke. Tracing his finger along the coast until the spot marked MonacoBay, he said, “This is another of the ancients’ sites. It is a harbor with a functional jetty. Master Fandarel believes it is of the same durable construction as Boll’s wharf, perhaps stronger. Master Idolaran plans to place a small fleet there. The Weyrleaders have accepted his request.”

“Will we fight thread over all these sites?

“Of course; we fly all inhabited sites in the eastern part of the continent”, T’gellan remarked as his hand slid along the coast from the ParadiseRiver to MonacoBay. Thread fell across Landing and Cove Hold five days ago. Thread isn’t due to fall on our lands for 12 more days. In that time I expect a full six wings and a queen’s wing to fight.”

H’rogan spoke, “My wing is prepared to take any level; any position”.

K’lomar added, “As can mine.”

“I’d be glad for a right flank at either level”, P’wer chimed in.

T’gellan looked from F’nton to S’form for their input, nodding his head with a big smile. “I see here four of us who have flown Fall Leader” he said as he pulled out his marble. S’form, H’rogan and K’lomar pulled their black marbles. “Volkona, as senior queen rider, I expect you to lead the queens wing. Will you pool our marbles for first Fall Leader?”

Volkona extended her hand and the four men put their marbles in her palm. She shook them between her hands then placed a marble in each of their extended hands. The black marble with the bronze stripe was deposited in H’rogan’s hand. He enclosed it in his fist which he smacked into the palm of his left hand. Trebenath trumpeted from his perch on the heights. “Good”, he beamed. The other bronze riders saluted him.

“By tomorrow, men, have your wing lists ready for H’rogan. Also, have the mates and families that wish to come south along with their craft levels for the queen riders. We’ll see what we have for domestic and ancillary talents before recruiting”. A few of the riders looked at each other then back at T’gellan with renewed admiration.

“Now, for today”, T’gellan continued, “We’ll break into groups of three and take a segment of coast. H’rogan, take Talina and F’nton to the ParadiseRiver and fly the coast up to this headland. K’lomar, you take Delianna and S’form from Cove Hold up to the same point. Volkona and P’wer, we’ll fly from MonacoBay to Cove. Once we reach our destinations, we’ll go to our respective weyrs until tomorrow at sixth hour, eastern. We will meet back here.

Delianna had scrolled the map and set it back in its tube. She handed it to T’gellan as all the riders exited the small room. Already several miners with long poles and smiths with various digging implements were swarming the area. T’gellan walked purposely down the meadow where Monarth, Trebenath and Keith were circling to land. H’rogan handed the black marble with the bronze stripe back to T’gellan who traded the plain black one back. He relayed, via Monarth, the coordinates to Paradise and Cove then hoisted himself to Monarth’s neck. The three bronzes jumped to the sky simultaneously as the queens landed next.

T’gellan waited until the other two trios had popped between before giving the coordinates to Miridath and Boranth.

 ###

After T’gellan dismissed Volkona and P’wer he directed Monarth to Cove Hold. Monarth skip hopped to the water as T’gellan slung the riding straps over his shoulders. Soon, only his wake and bubbles showed where the big dragon was swimming. His rider watched until he surfaced beyond the point. T’gellan turned toward the wide veranda of the hold, F’nor was snoring from a hammock slung in a corner. His gear was spread on the floor beneath him. So much for discussing the new Weyr with the man who started Southern, T’gellan thought.

Leaving his gear on the banister he entered the main foyer which ran the length of the house. It was noticeably cooler. Once in the kitchen, he poured himself some fruit juice from the pitcher he found in the stone container and drank it down. It slackened his thirst and took the edge off his hunger. Loathed to eat Cove Hold’s food, he knew that a meal would send him to sleep and he had too much to think about. T’gellan walked back through the main hall toward the Harpermaster’s study.

“T’gellan! Come in!” Robinton’s jovial voice called from his desk. “Congratulations Weyrleader.”

“Acting Weyrleader, and I need to establish it before I can lead it”, T’gellan replied as he entered the cool room and crossed to one of the comfortable wooden chairs in front of the Masterharper’s desk. It was strewn with drawings, charts and artifacts. “You look well, Masterharper.”

“Pease, call me Robinton, I am no longer the Masterharper. Have you met with the other riders to the new Weyr already?”

“Robinton”, T’gellan murmured absently. “Yes, we met at the harper building at Landing then broke into groups to fly the coast. We’ll meet again tomorrow and check some potential sites. I forgot how you sleep off the heat of the day, here. I wanted to speak to F’nor.”

“Ah, yes, the founder of Southern Weyr. I suppose that F’nor would be an expert source,” Robinton mused.

They both turned to the footfalls in the hall, “Robinton, you are supposed to be asleep, Oh! T’gellan!” Brekke stood at the doorway, awkwardly staring at the rider.

“I apologize for keeping your patient awake”, T’gellan said as he rose. He expected her to shoo him out. Instead she joined them motioning for him to sit down. For the next hour the three spoke of known locations, the flora and fauna unique to Southern and logistics of holding not only dragonriders and their families but the crafts that would be needed to make this new Weyr self-sufficient. When F’nor woke, he joined them. Not until T’gellan crawled into a bed in a spare room at Cove Hold did he realize that none of them mentioned Mirrim.

###

A sea breeze buffeted off Monarth and Miridath as T’gellan and Volkona guided their dragons to land on a saddle of ground to the east of a series of cliffs that defined the far side of MonacoBay. The grass on the saddle was sparse and short; the soil was sandy.

“ _The air is sweet and the sun heats my back._ ” Monarth said as he landed and pawed at the ground with his forelegs. “ _Miridath is right; I do prefer this place._ ”

T’gellan patted his dragon’s neck. “The air is indeed sweet.”

Volkona had already vaulted from Miridath who lifted to the lee side of the heights where the sun was shining. She was standing beside T’gellan’s leg looking up. “Hmmm, yes. The air smells of part sea and part plant.” She breathed deeply as he swung his leg over Monarth and landed next to her. Taking her by the elbow he led her out of the downdraft of Monarth’s wings as he leapt to the air. He joined Miridath on the heights.

They were looking seaward down the gentle slope to the outer bay of Monaco. The ancient jetty was a grey line atop the deep blue expanse of water. The riders began walking toward the shore, surprised at the distance. The ground was evenly sandy with shallow outcrops of volcanic rock spotting the sparse, aromatic grass. As they approached the drop-off to the beach before the bay, Volkona remarked, “Not exactly a cave structure.”

T’gellan kneeled and dug through the sandy ground before looking up at her, “True, but it meets more of our requirements than any of the other sites. It’s coastal. Dragons can make wallows easily in this ground. We can build stone and mortar huts like Southern. There simply are no cave structures like Benden or Fort in this part of the southern continent”.

“What about the plateau Talina and H’rogan found?”

“Too far inland. No road structure or water source. Everything would have to be hauled by dragon. We have to be self-sufficient.” T’gellan straightened, put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. “Look to the left at that dark rock and the greener vegetation below it. There’s our water source with a bit of work. All the crafters and holders can live on the other side of the saddle and the Weyrfolk on this side. There’s a substantial river over there which empties into MonacoBay, near that ancient jetty. Let’s take a look”. He gestured for her to walk beside him.

He continued to extol the virtues of the gentle slope of land as Volkona walked beside him. She enjoyed his easy stride and pleasant voice. Out of the six wingleaders, she believed that he was the most appropriate to lead this new Weyr. She was pleased that he continued to reinforce her first impression. If only Miridath could rise before Arwith.

As they crested the saddle, she paid more attention to T’gellan’s discourse. He pointed out the river’s orientation and the extent of its high water mark on both banks. There were wooded copse and stretches of grass. They walked past the more-prevalent outcrops of sharp, volcanic rock to the stretch of thicker, taller grass. T’gellan knelt again and tore up the grass by its roots exposing the darker, richer soil.

“Do you expect dragonmen to farm?” Volkona said as she knelt beside him and pulled the grass with its clump of soil into her own hands.

“Not us, but I plan to entice some hardy souls to start farming operations here. None of us will want to wait shipments of flour to come by sea just to have bread with our meat.” T’gellan smiled as he sat back. “We need to find the right people to support our Weyr. People who won’t panic because they’re out in the open.” He paused for a moment, dusting the dirt from his hands. “This is rich soil. It’ll grow tubers bigger than my fist and this long growing season will mean two crops of wheat. We may eventually export to the north.”

“Were you farm bred before searched?” Volkona asked as she sat beside him.

He chuckled in reply. “No, I was a child when F’nor brought Ramoth’s first clutch back in time to Southern. We, all of us, were expected to make Southern operational. Now, that plateau had a suitable water source and full grown fruit trees. Some of the Weyrfolk started a small fishing fleet while others cleared land and grew grains and vegetables. Either by dragon or boat we’d head up or down the coast to forage as well”.

Volkona chuckled while leaning back on her elbows. “I wondered at how you gained your self-reliance and knowledge of Southern. N’ton never mentioned your childhood.”

“Aye, easier times as far as food and shelter went. We didn’t have threadfalls in those days. When we returned to Benden with two more wings not only did we have the shock of Northern Climates and the immediate threat of Threadfall across all of the Northern Continent but the shift in time was telling on man and beast. When F’lar sent T’bor and Kylara back to Southern most of the Southern Weyrfolk returned with them for the chance of exploring, including my mother. I wanted to return but I was 12 turns and was put to Ramoth’s next clutch. Lessa wanted young men to impress since fighting pairs were needed as soon as the dragons could go between but F’nor insisted I stand on the sands and Monarth chose me.” Both riders, eyes unfocused, wore dreamy smiles as the sun shone on their upturned faces.

T’gellan leaned back too then looked at Volkona, appreciating her figure. He snorted. “Here am I complaining about a mere 20 year jump and you came Forward”.

“From Benden, even”, she replied, pleased that she surprised him. “I was searched out of Bitra for Falalath clutch. About a turn before we jumped to this pass, Miridath rose for the first time. D’troman’s Ronueth caught her and I moved to Fort”.

“T’ron and Madra’s son was your weyrmate?!” T’gellan turned toward her.

“I thought at the time that they planned to step down with the end of the pass because Madra began training me before Miridath’s eggs were laid. I hope my close association with the banished leaders doesn’t . . . “

“Nonsense, Volkona,” T’gellan laid a hand over hers. “All of you came forward 400 turns to help in this time and Madra was a great Weyrwoman. To know that you were trained in the care of dragons and weyr management by one of the best, why I would be proud to see you become Weyrwoman of our Weyr.”

“With you as Weyrleader?”

“ _I would catch Miridath in a mating flight._ ” Monarth added looking toward T’gellan far below him.

“ _Monarth’s wingspan matches mine._ ” Miridath added confidently to Volkona.

Volkona looked up at her golden dragon speculatively then rolled to her side to face T’gellan. “Talina says you had a green rider for a weyrmate before her.”

T’gellan smiled slowly, “She means Mirrim. Mirrim and I were mates before she impressed Path.”

Volkona’s eyes popped in surprise, “the woman green rider of Benden. Will she join us in the Landing Weyr?”

“Eventually, I expect”, T’gellan said. “Mirrim was raised in Southern and is a journeyman healer with quite extensive knowledge of dragon care as well. She was one of the first on Pern to impress a fire lizard. In fact she impressed three when F’nor found that first clutch. She’d be an asset to our Weyr.”

Volkona smiled to herself, pleased that Talina’s ruse to put her off seeking T’gellan’s affection, failed. She lay back in the fragrant grass and gazed at the blue of the sky. “My brother was a green rider.”

T’gellan was on his back gazing at the sky too. “Two from the same family is considered good luck. Did he come forward?”

“No, he stayed in the oldtimes at Benden. We were close in age growing up.”

“Were you farm bred?”

“Gem cutters. When I was found on search my Pa said I could go on the condition that V’kon went too. If we hadn’t impressed we were to be returned.”

“Was that normal for those times?”

“It was the tail end of the pass. We were in training under our uncle and father, part of a dynasty. I suppose we would have served our craft after the pass but we both impressed”, she was silent for a moment. “They’re all long gone. I returned to our ancestral home in this time but the people there were no relation and not even jewelers. Not the Bitra I knew.”

T’gellan rolled to his side again, facing Volkona, “Do you regret coming forward?”

“Miridath and I serve Pern better in this time,” Volkona replied as she turned back toward him. T’gellan slid his hand from her shoulder to her hip pulling her toward him. She willingly leaned into him. He kissed her speculatively then both dragons on the heights warbled. Both riders laughed before submitting to their passion.

Later, as the sun shot red streamers across the western sky they awoke with their dragons beside them. “ _We must return to Fort_ ,” Miridath said to Volkona. She stretched languidly. As she dressed, T’gellan considered her.

He leaned against Monarth. “Do you think Miridath can rise before Arwith or Namanth?”

“All three queen riders believe that Arwith will rise first but Miridath and I have done what we can to rise before her,” she winked before turning to mount her dragon.

“We must leave it to chance, then,” he replied as he began dressing too. “It would be fitting to have you, Volkona, as Weyrwoman of the next Weyr of Pern.

She smiled wistfully from her mount on Miridath’s neck. T’gellan stepped back instinctively as the golden dragon bunched for her initial jump to the sky. Monarth and T’gellan watched as the pair rose higher in the sky then winked out.

###

S'form, Delianna and T’gellan were flying from the river that emptied into MonacoBay to the site that the ancients called Cardiff looking for herds of runner beasts west of the Bay. Both riders had been pleased with the site T’gellan was leaning toward. As they flew due west and inland from the site, they surveyed the ground for sign of animals. T’gellan flew to the north, Delianna on Namanth flew center and S'form on Nogirith was to the south.

 _“Another clearing ahead,_ ” Monarth said as he dipped. T’gellan leaned back watching though his dragon’s eyes. “ _I see movement._ ”

T’gellan and Monarth spiraled over the clearing. They counted several females with young and an angry buck who circled his harem while positioning himself directly under the flying pair. “ _More defense against wherrie behavior,_ ” T’gellan thought toward Monarth. “ _Mark it. They will be easy to catch once the stockyard is built._ ” He looked south to the other two riders. They were circling over clearings below them. Monarth and T’gellan rose to see the river called Jordan to their west.

“ _This is as far west as we were going to fly today, Monarth. Tell Nogirith and Namanth to return to our site of origin._ ”

“ _They will return on my mark._ ” Monarth replied.

T’gellan hadn’t realized how humid the air had become flying west until he smelled the sweet air of his Monaco site. All three dragons landed on the saddle of land between the soaring heights T’gellan had a momentary vision of all six wings in a semi circle below the saddle. There was room for twelve more. In that moment, T’gellan decided it was the location of their new Weyr.

Delianna had walked up beside him, standing in the same position as Volkana had only three days before. “Are you ready for some food?” she asked him while holding up a substantial basket.

“I could eat,” he replied as he swung down from Monarth, landing neatly in front of her. He took the basket and Delianna’s hand rushing her away from his dragon who had announced he was going for a swim. Monarth barely lifted from the saddle to fly close to the slope down to the bay. He dove neatly beneath it and they watched his form slice under the water until he raised his long neck above the waves. In the next instant, Nogirith and Namanth had left the heights to join him. As the dragons cavorted the riders sat around a small hearth that Volkona and S’form had built when they had first surveyed the site. There was still a supply of wood from the beach beside it.

Delianna pulled out a pot while S'form built up a small fire with driftwood. “Burning wood,” she remarked with mock asperity.

“It burns as well as blackstone, and there’s so much of it on the beach.” S'form added a few more pieces then slid the pot onto a pole that he balanced between two forked posts supported by rocks.

Delianna passed around meat rolls which the men ate quickly. “Did you even taste them?” she remarked as she lifted the pot’s lid with her gloves. Dropping in a supply of klah bark chunks, she set the lid quickly then sat back to enjoy her one meat roll. Both men were finishing their second before she took her first bite.

“Have you spoken to Wendel about setting up an infirmary?” T’gellan asked S'form.

“He’s considering it,” S'form replied after swallowing quickly. “Although Morilsuly was displeased; he is still annoyed that Benden took three of his healers and now you want another.”

“The gall of that old man!” T’gellan replied with some gruffness. “Brekke and Mirrim don’t count and Goren came of his own will when Formar swapped with him. I’d think he’d be pleased for Wendel to return to the southern continent and start an infirmary. He’d be capable.”

“I think we can count on Wendel once he has spoken to Master Oldive for replacements. I bet in a few turns old Morri will want to come warm his bones on this very site.” S'form pulled out a cup and used a glove to pour some of the klah into it. “Hmm, needs to steep more.”

Delianna added, “Veena and her brother Carten have agreed to come. She’s a seamstress and he is a tanner, also a friend of one H'rogan’s blue riders.

While the klah steeped, sending forth whiffs of pungent steam, the riders continued discussions about kitchen help, farmers, herdsmen, miners, harpers, and possible Weyrlingmasters. T’gellan was finishing the last of his cup of klah as the other two rose on their dragons then disappeared to their respective weyrs.

Dumping the dregs and absently setting his mug next to the spent fire, T’gellan watched a few rollers far out to sea behind a series of natural breakers. Breathing deeply he turned to survey the lea side of the saddle. “That expanse facing the bay will be for the weyrs; we’ll build wood and stone huts like Southern. We’ll need masons for that,” he spoke aloud to a drowsy Monarth. “We’ll bring in a driller from Telgar to tap that natural seep for a source of fresh water.”

“This side,” he waved his hand over the copse of trees and grasses that gently sloped toward the river, “will be for the gardens, crafthalls, stockyards … I bet more of it is arable once we cut down those hardwood trees. As he walks along a grove of them he spied a clump of tiny pink flowers. He picked a stalk that ended in a burst of fragrant little stars.

 

A sniff brought the memory of a restday that he and Mirrim enjoyed walking a trail through the same kind of trees in Lemos. Absently he noted that these southern trees were taller with bigger trunks. Mirrim had bent to pick this same kind of flower and tucked it behind her ear after raising it to his nose.

“A happier time, eh Monarth?” T’gellan looked toward his dragon sunning himself on the heights. He wasn’t quite asleep but chose not to answer. Mirrim had wanted to show T’gellan the sear between the grove of trees that she and Path had cleared of thread. The pair had been so effective that by the time the groundcrew arrived adragonback, there was nothing for them to do but praise her and Path for how they had saved some of the best wood in Lemos’ forest. Not as durable as broomtree but highly sought for cabinets, instruments and veneers because of their even and bold grain. Lord Asgenar had been so pleased that he had given her a belt knife in a jeweled sheath to express his Hold’s gratitude.

Suddenly, T’gellan laughed because he knew what fine currency stood before him for the cost of drillers and masons.

“ _Namanth and her rider land,_ ” Monarth announced as he became fully awake. In the sunset T’gellan could see Delianna in a light gather gown standing alone on the saddle. She was looking toward the sea as he approached then turned toward him with an inviting smile.

“ _They make their bid to be Weyrleaders,_ ” T’gellan replied to Monarth’s bugle of welcome as Namanth rose to his side. Impulsively, he tucked the flower spray into the thick golden waves of Delianna’s hair, in the vicinity of her ear.

###

In the predawn, T’gellan woke under a rock overhang smelling a scent reminiscent of Mirrim. Delianna was nestled beside him. The wilted flower was still behind her ear and next to his nose. As he extricated himself, T’gellan picked up his clothing and walked out to the predawn southern skies so different from Benden but as comforting as the skies of his childhood.

Monarth and Namanth were deep in sleep. Each had made a separate wallow in the sandy ground facing the bay.

“A pity,” T’gellan thought. “Arwith is going to rise first and my only competition will be H’rogan. If only Volkona or Delianna’s queen would rise first. Either one of them would be a better Weyrwoman than Talina. But there’d be more competition.” As he searched the eastern sky for the dawn sisters, T’gellan knew like the other bronzes and queens; leadership of this new Weyr would be left to chance. However chance was favoring Talina and T’gellan. The other bronzes were beginning to realize the perseverance and thankless hard work a new weyr in this remote eastern outcrop would be.

With a sudden realization, T’gellan turned westward and up. The Dawn Sisters were glowing, almost like the disks he knew them to actually be. He laughed aloud, “We are east of Landing!”

“That is obvious,” Delianna replied as she walked up to him.

T’gellan picked her up at the waist and twirled her. “Eastern, that’s our name and this is our Weyr!” T’gellan crowed. “We are so far east that the Dawn Sisters are west of us.” He pointed up and Delianna looked up in time to see them before the sun spilled over the eastern ocean.

“Our new Weyr: Eastern.” She smiled up at him as Namanth landed before them. “I should get back to my former Weyr. I suppose we should start moving in?” She arched one brow as Namanth bunched for her downsweep.

T’gellan closed his eyes to avoid grit in them then plopped down on the sandy ground feeling the sun’s rays on his face, all thoughts on establishing this weyr before Arwith rose.


	16. Talina's Rise

Talina frowned into the sea breeze. “There’s only two caves and they’re too low for the dragons. Are we to live cooped up like holders?”

K’lomar clucked his tongue as Volkona heaved a sigh. H’rogan turned toward Talina. “Why would dragons want stone walls with all this sun-warmed sand to wallow in?”

“And what will we do in winter?” She gestured toward S’form who had been stepping further away from her.

“This is winter right now,” H’rogan replied. “Southern doesn’t have seasons like the Northern Continent. He turned toward T’gellan, Delianna and F'nton. “I agree. The bay, that river, the cash lumber, farmland and feedstock a dragon hop away.”

“Where is my queen to lay her eggs?” Talina gestured toward K’lomar then H’rogan.

Delianna rolled her eyes and Volkona sighed. “Sand” said one as the other said “With all this sun?”

Talina barely gave them notice. “We can’t live in an open site looking at an ocean and expect eggs to harden. What if there’s a queen egg?”

“I’ve already spoken with several smithcrafters about a hypocaust system,” T’gellan interrupted while taking Talina by the arm but not looking at her. He beckoned to the rest of the riders who followed them toward P’wer.

P’wer took his cue from T’gellan’s nod. “You can see, lady riders, the stakes mark the perimeter of the hatching grounds.” He waved his arms in a wide arc toward the sea. We will dig out the sand from here then build up a false floor, then redeposit the sa..”

“This is ridiculous,” Talina spat while yanking her arm from T’gellan’s hardening grip. She looked toward Delianna and Volkona briefly, expecting their support. A hatching ground must have overhead protection!”

Igen’s hatching grounds are in the open,” H’rogan said with some asperity.

Talina whirled on him, scowling. She had expected his dedicated support after the amount of time she had expended upon him.

“This is the best location any of us have found yet,” he added while shaking his head. “And this one will be self-sufficient. Maybe even profitable.”

“That’s the plan,” T’gellan replied, visibly relieved that Talina’s supposed hold on H’rogan was weakening. “Now, for the kitchen and mess…”

“NO!” Talina shouted. “You have control over fighting threadfalls but not the domestic decisions. “Delianna, Volkona,” she stalked over to them. “Don’t you agree that we make the decisions for domestic affairs?”

Volkona was the first to react in the few moments of stunned silence that followed Talina’s outburst. “The queen riders usually do oversee housekeeping duties,” she dissembled.

Delianna joined in, “I’ve thought we should have two mess halls: One for dragon riders and one for the beast herders and farmers on the other side of the saddle.” The two older queen riders had flanked the slim woman destined to be their Weyrwoman. They walked away with her toward the saddle eager to finally discuss processes that would bring their respective people to Eastern.

The men sighed in relief as the three queen riders walked over the saddle. In the month since beginning the eighth weyr of Pern, all riders present knew that Arwith would rise first. The bronze riders knew their dragons would try to catch her but most were figuring that Monarth would prevail. T’gellan had worked tirelessly to secure a location, workers and finances to start a weyr. As they watched the women disappear behind the saddle, T’gellan began, “Please continue with your explanation of the hypocaust system, P’wer. Before we’re ready, we’ll have dragon eggs.”

###

Of the two low caves, Talina became adamant that the larger one would be her weyr. Although T’gellan wanted to make it a council room, he relented. All the other riders, including the steady stream of southbound wingmen, chose to build wood and stone weyrs in the open. The dragons were content to wriggle wallows in the sandy ground. Arwith built herself a sandy bed a distance away since she was too tall to fit inside the cave and its entrance was the saddle. The vegetation on the saddle had already been beaten down to dirt given its high traffic. T’gellan discovered that conceding to Talina may solve immediate conflict but they were stepping stones to bigger disagreements and angrier quarrels.

Talina declared the smaller cave sufficient for the infirmary and she was certain that one central location was more efficient despite the healers’ protests. A FortWeyr healer, Tendyr and Wendel from High Reaches were not pleased with the location but began outfitting it for the inevitable thread-scored dragons and riders. Even though the saddle separating the gentle slope toward the protected bay and the verdant woods and glades, was wide and relatively even, treating threaded dragons on it was going to become crowded.

Talina continued her opposition to building Weyr facilities on what the others considered the logical side of the saddle for Dragonkind. As the cash trees were cut then transported to the north for trade, Talina claimed the cleared land for more weyr facilities. The non-weyr craftspeople that had been recruited with promises of land and material were beginning to wonder whether the opportunities were worth the limits as the dragonfolk seemed to take the best tracts of land.

As stone huts were built on the bay side, more of the six wings and their folk moved south and swelled the ranks of workers for the moving of sand, stone and vegetation. Dragons naturally preferred the bay side. They worked alongside their riders to move massive quantities of raw material.

Talina reveled in the power to direct and impose her will. Secretly she had always wondered if she was worthy enough to fit the position of Weyrwoman. She tended to mimic the gestures and mannerisms of Lessa, her mentor, rather than the lessons. Arwith, her dragon, was more aware of the duties and could be found with the other queens, moving boulders and lifting huge trunks after they had been cut and limbed.

T’gellan tried to be everywhere to keep tempers from flaring and all working toward the goal of a finished hatching ground. He knew how to delegate and all of the Bronze riders along with some of the other bronze and brown Wingseconds were responsible for the different tasks that shaped a Weyr out of wilderness. He let Talina have her way in most discussions knowing that Volkona and Delianna would actually be the ones to direct people and correct the obvious mistakes. The one argument he didn’t want to have was the location of the hatching grounds. Talina was adamant that they be on the lee side of the cliffs where sand would have to be transported.

But as Arwith’s color deepened and the bronzes began hovering about her, T’gellan knew they’d have to give in, hoping that Arwith would convince her rider to be rational by the time she was ready to lay her eggs.

###

T’gellan woke a bit disoriented since somebody was sleeping next to him. He reached out to Monarth who responded drowsily, “ _I flew Arwith well; she sleeps still._ ” He realized that he was in Talina’s weyr and it must be late afternoon at Eastern. Two months to the day that he chose the volcanic cliffs above MonacoBay for the eighth Weyr of Pern, he had become the undisputed Weyrleader, and his Weyrwoman, Talina.

He stretched onto his back feeling a slight twinge in his shoulders from the rockwork that the dragons and riders has been doing every spare moment. With his arms behind his head he stared at the cave’s ceiling. It was jagged, nothing like the smooth ceilings in Benden. Given the amount of loose rock on the floors of the two caves, he wasn’t sure they were stable. All dragons chose to create wallows in the open rather than shelters. His own weyr was a structure, much like the huts in Southern Weyr. Monarth had created a large sandy wallow beside it.

Talina could keep this cave; he would remain in his own weyr. When he set the walls he had purposely made it large enough to accommodate a family. Monarth’s wallow was large enough for him and a small green although he had quit saying Path or her rider’s name. Talina had commented on the size of both once she had agreed to establish the new weyr on this site. He grimaced at that thought. Agreement, pah! He had to let go of this perfect council room in order to achieve that concession.

Hearing noises associated with the communal dinner, T’gellan rose crawling over Talina’s lithe form. She mumbled. “Sleep” and rolled into the spot he had vacated. He pulled on the light shorts and sleeveless vest that most men wore in this hot climate, annoyed when he noticed the top two clasps had been torn off. Why Talina liked to destroy clothing was a mystery to him. The lone seamstress had complained to him more than once of her requests that had little to do with establishing a new weyr. Talina had a tendency toward wastefulness. Lessa had admonished her for excessive use of her flame thrower when they were still at Benden and Volkona had complained of Talina’s penchant for exhausting her flame thrower at twice the rate of her and Delianna during falls.  He’d bring Talina to task soon enough.

As he stepped out of the cave he looked north toward the expanse of MonacoBay, the ancients’ jetty still looking more substantial than their efforts in stonework. What did they use? Looking up the coast the tall cliffs offered his Weyr a break from the constant ocean breezes and a few jumps to the previous turns confirmed that they held off the worst of the winter storms. He turned behind him to see the expanse of Eastern Weyr. The saddle of land gently sloped to the river. So much had been cleared.

The kitchen was inadequate and as his stomach rumbled, he again lamented that he would have to walk more than half the distance to the river to reach the open mess hall. Water was the reason it was so far from activity. Even though T’gellan had brought in drillers who quickly tapped a water source on the bay side, Talina rejected it. The stone structure they had built around the water source became a substantial bathhouse. P’wer was disappointed that the hypocaust system for which he had been responsible was used for so mundane a service as bathing until his first shower. Ista had baths. Although the water was sweeter on the big island, hot artesian water over sore shoulders removed disappointment as well as grime.

T’gellan had told P’wer to continue building the hatching grounds according to his original plans. The other two queen riders had already confided to him that their dragons would use the heated grounds when ready to drop a clutch.

As T’gellan approached the head table where the other bronze and gold riders sat, they rose as one. Their actions were repeated as the rest of the folk, dragonriders, craftspeople and drudges rose. T’gellan released them all to their meals and tasks with his first official salute as a Weyrleader. It was not as sweet a motion as he anticipated. He sat between H’rogan and K’lomar, his two perceived rivals until Monarth twined his neck with Arwith a scant four hours ago. Where there would have been celebration at another weyr, all went back to work after the bronzes escorted Talina to her weyr. Nobody was surprised that T’gellan won the right of Weyrleader. Nobody was pleased that Talina officially became their Weyrwoman.

“We fly thread on the coast from Cove to Paradise tomorrow,” T’gellan began as nobody else could think what to say. “Since half the fall is over water, I want to fly half the wings so that the rest can continue working. And, we will return to the Pernese custom of restday every seventh day.” A few dragons rumbled as green and blue flashes upon the cliffs reflected the weyr’s favorable opinion of that last pronouncement.

“Shall I report the progress of the wings now?” K’lomar asked.

“Not tonight. We will hold the first official council in the morning at second hour. At my weyr.” T’gellan added with a nod of his head. It was a poor second to Talina’s cave but at least it was private.

After the tables had been cleared, people who played instruments pulled out several guitars, small drums and one mid-size harp. It reminded T’gellan that no harper had been assigned to Eastern yet. As Talina had not made an appearance so far, T’gellan escorted Delianna to the clearing to begin the dancing. He traded his partner with F’nton to dance with Volkona. He took a quick turn with Valta, the apparent headwoman. She was mother to one of the brown riders of High Reaches. Shortly after the first set, H’rogan stepped in so that T’gellan could move back to the main table. Wendel and Tendyr were waiting for him along with some of the other non-riders who belonged to Eastern.

T’gellan nodded absently as he watched the crafters queue up. He had expected this change in these people, his people, as soon as he became the undisputed Weyrleader.

Wendel began without preamble, “The riders’ infirmary is not adequate.”

Tendyr added “And with the injuries the bush whackers are returning with, we’re going to need two separate infirmaries.”

“It will require at least two more healers,” Wendel added, paused then continued, “I want to make inquiries for journeymen healers trained in both human and dragon treatments but need your leave to do so.” He smiled widely and T’gellan could tell that he was about to mention Mirrim’s name. He thought to wait until the eggs hatched but he was pleased that were others that wanted her at Eastern too.

“Wendel!” An angry screech came from behind T’gellan. Talina, clad in a new, sleeveless, creamy gown entered into the lights. “I told you not to bother T’gellan, the Weyrleader, with your quibbles. I will not have…”

In one fluid movement T’gellan had risen and scooped the diminutive woman into his arms, twirling her a few times before covering her mouth with his in a big, sloppy kiss. The crafters backed up, some smiled while some were shocked at the display. He set her down hard grabbing hold of her hand then raising both to quiet the crowd. “Our Weyrwoman is right. Tonight is for celebration. We shall take a much needed break from our hard work. Tomorrow is soon enough to pick up our tools and continue to build our new home.” T’gellan pulled Talina into his side and began walking smartly towards the musicians and dancers. “Talina, my lady, the dancing began without you. Let us go to the floor now and rectify that overlooked duty.”

She sputtered at his clever move to stop her words and she fumed at his quick pace. Talina was not going to allow that green rider in her weyr and T’gellan will know of it now, if not later tonight when he returned to her weyr. But bringing up the fact that the dancing started without her, The Weyrwoman, meant she had missed her very first official act in her newly won role. By the time they were to the floor, her mood had shifted from fury to tranquility.

Until Arwith rose, she could not be certain of her position. That T’gellan was the leader didn’t surprise her. She had wanted him since the first time they had met, one day before she impressed Arwith. So many at Benden had expected that scrawny, frizzy-haired Brekke to impress her beautiful golden dragon. All the women on Benden’s hatching ground expected it. Even she had hesitated when Brekke was led onto the grounds until that annoying fire lizard had flown at the entire group, hissing and squawking. Talina had instinctively shifted between the fire lizard and the golden dragonet when the back of her hand briefly brushed the dragonet’s head knob. Impression was not as spectacular as she had anticipated. Arwith had been trying to go to Brekke and had called her by name inside Talina’s head.

“ _No! I am Talina. I am your rider,_ ” she had replied.

“ _I am Arwith, Talina,_ ” was the dragonet’s reply and the bond was set. But, she wondered; was she truly worthy of a queen dragon? Worse yet, she was terrified that any rider should discover that she stole Brekke’s chance to be whole again. It terrified her more than her fear of thread which she still flamed on the highest settings despite the other queenriders’ displeasure.

As a golden dragon’s rider, Talina was confident that T’gellan would want her. She was beautiful too; everyone told her so. And, she was Ruathan. Then that squint-eyed, top-heavy, bossy brat took his interest away from her. Now, T’gellan was undisputedly hers and she would make every other woman know; even that freak, green rider.

Talina was in her shining moment. The man she won was leading her onto the dance floor. Only a few hours before the two of them had been linked to their dragons in a furious, glorious mating flight that sealed the four of them as the first leaders of a new weyr. It was historical, like Mi’hal and Toreen. They’d be remembered forever.

With that thought sealed into her mind, she looked into T’gellan’s eyes with absolute adoration. They pierced her. He held her firmly, expertly moving her through the intricate weaving of a two-partner dance. He was her perfect image of a Weyrleader, tall with striking features and a force of will to lead anybody, even her. She molded her body to his whenever they touched and she shifted herself only for him. T’gellan was inextricably hers and she belonged to him. By the end of the night thoughts of voicing her opposition to Mirrim at her Weyr were forgotten, even as he left her to her own weyr, not inviting her to come to his.


	17. What a Green Rider Wants

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pern and its inhabitants are the property of the late, great Ann McCaffrey. The settings, the locations and most of these characters in this story are the creation of Ann McCaffrey. 
> 
> I let my imagination run in her world and this is it.

S’bald and G’lenan carried their mugs and plates to their usual table for the noon meal. The two green riders made the best of an open spot knowing that Mirrim wouldn’t sit with them this day.

“Is she’s still angry at the Weyrleader?” S’bald asked as they sat.

“Probably,” G’lenan replied before biting into a roll. F’lar had forced lots on Path’s next rising after hearing about their maiden flight. “He said he would relent if she or Path chose a partner.” To be fair, G’lenan’s Boath was subjected to the same judgment as he, too, hadn’t declared for any other rider or member of the weyr. G’lenan had suggested to Mirrim that they share his weyr but she had declined him, gently, for all that it had distressed him. “Arwith rose this afternoon at Eastern and Monarth caught her.”

“Hmm,” S’bald took a quick sip of klah to clear his mouth. “Mirrim predicted that.”

“Aye, she did; doesn’t mean she’s happy about it. Probably best she be alone with her temper.”

They ate quietly as they listened to the other riders discuss the new leadership at the recently-named weyr. S’bald nudged G’lenan and gestured to the cavern opening where Goren had walked through carrying a tray. He deposited it at the pass-through to the kitchen then picked up a plate and mug.

“Guess he’s escaping her temper as well,” S’bald quipped. They watched Goren seat himself at the end of a table of women who were at first startled at his presence then concentrated on their meal.

The two green riders looked at each other and shrugged. Later, as G’lenan conveyed the cleaning drudges to the upper weyrs as part of his afternoon duties, he mulled over his friend’s predicament. Although Mirrim was a green rider, she was a woman too. He could understand her reticence to act like the other green riders. The two of them had spoken often over the last few turns about their difficulties. Unlike S’bald and other green and several blue riders, G’lenan preferred the opposite sex.

Impressing Boath had been the most profound experience of his life and he knew he’d die like his father if he lost her. D'namal had been the love of Willa’s life. Day after heartbreaking day she had sat at his side watching him fade, powerless to keep him after his dragon went between. After the inevitable she had told G’lenan she had always known she had been nothing to D'namal compared to Brown Plinenth. When Plinenth died of his threadscore injuries at the beginning of this pass, D’namal quit trying to live. His mother never really could love after D’namal.

For Boath, G’lenan knew he’d take thread for her. He would forsake his mother, mate or children for her. He would rather die with her then breath a moment without her. He also accepted that Boath reveled in her mating flights and he wouldn’t deny her.

Boath was looking across the bowl, her eyes spinning a slow green flecked with yellow. G’lenan crossed from where he had been leaning against the wall of the current weyr to her. He laid his cheek against her warm, musky hide and spread his arms against her side. She turned to him, eyes glowing a powdery blue. “ _I love you more than flying in the sunlight,_ ” she spoke into his mind.

He chuckled in response, “ _I love you more than iced spice cakes._ ”

Boath warbled, “ _I’d love you best if you would scratch just behind my wings._ ” G’lenan complied by sliding his hand under the strap holding the laundry bags. Languorously he caressed his dragon down her back to just above her tail, straddling it. He was in the midst of long, sensual stroke along her lower spine when he heard one of the drudges shuffle to his side. He opened his eyes and looked at her.

“You can’t be done already, Teema”

The short round woman with streaks of grey through her raven hair bobbed then beckoned for him to follow. Stepping away from Boath, G’lenan complied. Upon entering the sleeping chamber, he laughed for a moment then nodded. Stepping over to the cot he shook the sleeping form not at all surprised to find a young woman. She gasped after she opened her eyes, sliding up to the backboard, holding the fur up to her neck.

“Be easy,” G’lenan said gently. “I am G’lenan, green Boath’s rider. This is Teema and in the bathing chamber is Rhogo. We’re a weyr cleaning detail. Usually guests have departed the weyrs by afternoon.

“Afternoon!” she groaned. “I was supposed to be back home by sunrise. When my brother and sister-in-law find out I will be whipped.”

“Shhh, be easy,” he repeated. “Do you remember the name of your rider?”

“He rides a brown dragon, a big man with dark hair. T’gran, maybe?” She covered her face in shame, a small sob escaped from between her fingers.”

“Ah, and where is your home?” G’lenan asked as he patted her bare shoulder before covering it with the fur.

“Fortingall Hold, south of Nabol”. There was a Gather yesterday. The brown rider said he’d take me back by sunrise.”

G’lenan sat on the edge of the cot and patted her shoulder through the fur. “You are in Benden Weyr, dear, on the eastern side of Pern where it is just after noon. In Nabol it is still morning. We will make certain that you are home in time. Now, please tell me your name and I will ask my Boath to bespeak T’gran’s Branth.”

“Soromiah,” she sniffed. G’lenan’s eyes were unfocused for a moment but then he looked directly into her eyes.

“T’gran and Branth’s duties are sweep rides over the southeast coast this afternoon. He said you were sleeping so soundly he didn’t want wake you. He would like you to stay until he returns this afternoon and then he’ll return you.”

She shook her head vigorously.

“Would you like to wash up? Are you hungry?”

She continued to stare at him blankly.

“Soromiah?”

“I, uh, I need my clothes,” she replied.

G’lenan turned to Teema not at all surprised to see that Rhogo was beside her, gawking. “Teema, pull this lady’s clothes out of the laundry bag and give ‘em a shake before you hand them to her, please. Rhogo, I will take you to the next weyr if you’re done in the bathing room.” The squat, bald man nodded once. “Get your cleaning gear, then.”

“Aye G’lenan,” they replied in unison and immediately executed their dragonman’s commands. When he turned back to Soromiah, she was watching him cautiously.

“I’d wager you could use a dunk in the bathing room before you dress. I’m going to take Rhogo to the next weyr while Teema tends to you. When I return I will take you to the lower caverns for a bit of food and klah before I take you to, Foringol? Was that your hold?

She nodded. “Fortingall Hold.”

“C’mon Rhogo, lets leave the ladies.” The little man trudged behind the dragonman to Boath and scrambled up her.

G’lenan took Rhogo to three more weyrs before returning to T’gran and Branth’s weyr for the lovely Soromiah. All the while, Branth bespoke Boath to be sure her rider treated Soromiah with the respect owed to a lady and to please, please smooth over her annoyance at her abandonment. G’lenan figured that T’gran had forgotten that he had left a girl in his bed.

Soromiah was standing back from the lip and scurried further back as Boath landed. Teema stood perhaps a foot from the dragon and expertly pulled up behind her mate. G’lenan extended his hand to Soromiah who tentatively stepped forward. “Can your dragon carry so many?”

“Don’t worry about Boath’s strength, m’lady,” he smiled as she took his hand. “I’ll seat you in front of me so I can hold onto you. We usually don’t strap up in the Weyr. I’m going to take the drudges to the next weyr then set you at the lower caverns for a bite before I take you to your hold.”

Boath flew the quartet to the weyr below depositing the drudges then dropped to the floor of the bowl. G’lenan dismounted his dragon then reached for the girl who slid into his arms. Taking her by the elbow he escorted her into the lower caverns. As he expected, Willa was immediately upon them with cups of klah.

“Oh, you poor girl, you’re hair is still damp. G’lenan, take her to the night hearth and I’ll bring her some bread and stew. Mirrim is there,” Willa said with a significant nod.

He escorted her to the table where Mirrim sat, absently poking at her stew with her spoon. “Mirrim, this is Lady Soromiah of Fortingall Hold. Soromiah, greet Mirrim, rider of green Path.”

Mirrim looked at Soromiah and nodded, “I greet you lady, please sit.” Mirrim sat up straighter but still seemed preoccupied.

“I am pleased to meet you, rider of Path,” Soromiah gushed while seating herself opposite Mirrim, somewhat awestruck. She sipped her klah, brightening when she had sampled its superior flavor. “I never thought I would meet the first woman rider of a green dragon. There’s a song the harpers sing of your impression. I heard it again last night at the Nabol Gather.”

Mirrim grinned. G’lenan sat beside Soromiah grinning too. Soromiah seemed to be bursting with questions but was too timid to start.

“Mirrim also has three fire lizards; where are they?” G’lenan asked while looking behind him to the mantle above the hearth.

“Probably swimming in the lake,” she responded. For a moment Mirrim lost focus which Soromiah had begun to recognize as a rider’s expression when talking to his dragon, however that happened. A green fire lizard zipped into the cavern followed by a brown. “Ah, this green is Lok,” Mirrim said as the little green perched on her shoulder. The brown landed directly in front of the untouched bowl of stew looking inquiringly at his mistress. “This little glutton is Tolly,” she said as she affectionately caressed his head. “No, you may not have my lunch,” but she popped a morsel of stew meat into his mouth before he slipped under the table to snuggle in her lap. Lok accepted a tidbit too.

“Where is the third one?” Soromiah asked, thoroughly impressed with her first real close up view of fire lizards. ”What color is he?”

“She,” Mirrim emphasized, “is green. Reppa is her name and she has been sulking today. Not good company.”

G’lenan reached across the table to squeeze Mirrim’s hand in compassion before saying, “I need to take the drudges to the rest of the weyrs before they can start laundry. Will you keep company with Soromiah, until I return?”

Mirrim nodded her assent as he stood to leave. Willa was walking towards them, laden with a tray with more food than three people could eat. He smiled at his mother as he left to finish his task. He needed to run over to the map room to review the coordinates for Nabol and see if there was one for Fortingall Hold. Also, he wanted to check the time zones. He hadn’t done much timing but F’lessan had explained the mechanics enough that he felt he could bring the girl to her hold safely. Best of all, Boath was excited for the jump.

When he returned, all three women were in lively conversation, laughing merrily. Lok was being thoroughly cuddled by Soromiah. He couldn’t help smiling as he stepped up beside her. “Are you ready?” he asked.

She looked up at him cheerfully then rose, sliding her arm into his. “I thank you, Willa and Mirrim, for your hospitality. Perhaps we will meet again.” Her shoulders rose in a childlike shrug at the other two women beamed. Mirrim prodded Willa with her elbow.

“Yes, I am ready, G’lenan.”

As they turned to leave, Mirrim warned, “Don’t meet yourself going.”

He turned to smirk at her.

“What does that mean?” Soromiah asked the man as they walked into the bowl.

“It’s a dragonrider saying.” He replied, shaking his head.

Boath wore her conveyance straps. G’lenan guided Soromiah behind him then warned her that they would lift. As they rose he called back to her, “we’re going between.” In the next instant they were above Nabol, evidence of the Gather the day before strewn about the square. Dawn had come moments before. G’lenan congratulated himself for a successfully timed jump.

“Do we fly the river or head true south of here?” He called back to her. Soromiah had clung to his waist when they started the jump and it took her a moment to open her eyes. She looked over his shoulder in surprise. “Soromiah?”

“It’s not long past dawn. I could swear I left here not four hours ago. What time is it at the Benden Weyr?”

G’lenan hesitated, “I didn’t want you to be whipped so I’m bringing you home on time. T’gran would have done the same. Now, which way do we fly to get you there?”

“Uh, follow the south road.” She leaned forward to yell into his ear. G’lenan guided Boath above a wagon upon the road, working its way through the switchback to the pass. They soon were ahead onto a plateau of field patches and stone buildings. Soon they were to the next pass above the road. “I’ve never seen my home from so far up,” she remarked. “Turn toward the sun at the top of that pass.” Below them were several tents and wagons next to a stream. Runners were drinking from it and a few human figures moved about them. “That’s my family. They got pretty far before the moons set last night. They’re not going to know,” she added, relief coloring her tone. “Follow the trail along this stream, it empties into a river. There will be a bridge above that. That’s where we’ll turn and follow it to Fortingall.”

G’lenan wondered what “They” weren’t going to know. He wondered, too, if asking to see her again would be too forward or would she prefer T’gran. Branth didn’t think so, according to Boath but then dragons rarely cared about people beyond riders. T’gran would have to have known that the drudges were going to be in the weyrs the day after restday. What an appalling way to treat a guest. She was tapping him on his shoulder and pointing to a series of structures against a cliff before a spread of orderly fields. There was a pen of runners that began to stampede in terrified circles as Boath spiraled down. She adjusted her descent to put them before the largest hold. G’lenan asked her to put them down further back on the road as people were emerging from various openings. Soromiah gave him a squeeze in response.

They landed. He dropped to the ground then reached for Soromiah who slid into his arms. She hugged him and kissed his cheek before turning to Boath and petting the dragon’s neck. “Thank you Boath, for the ride home.” Boath turned her bejeweled eyes toward the pair. They glittered an aqua hue. “And thank you, G’lenan, for being so kind to me. I wish that, I wish…”

He hadn’t completely let her go yet and held her as she started to step away. He pressed his lips to hers then kissed deeply as she responded. “If it’d be no bother to T’gran, I’d like to visit you, Soromiah.”

“Him??! The rider who left me in the side of a cliff?” She had pulled back to look into his eyes but still held her body close to his. “He made a promise to my brother that he’d bring me home so I could stay for the dancing. We got too drunk last night. I’m certain he couldn’t pick me out of a crowd, let alone remember my name. But you! You took care of me from the moment you found me. You’ve already said my name more times than he did.”

“Don’t be too hard on T’gran. He is a Wingsecond and probably forgot his duties until he woke. Our dragons have to come first and a Wingsecond has to think of the other 34 lives he commands. Do I see you again or did you have an understanding with T’gran?”

“What do you mean, understanding?” Her forehead furrowed as she waited for his answer.

G’lenan chose careful words, “It’s an agreement of sorts between, well, if T’gran asked to see you again or said that he’d like you to think about living at Benden, he may think he has an understanding with you.”

“No, no understanding.”

“Good, next restday, I’ll come a little later than this time in the morning. I’ve not much occasion to be in this part of Pern. You can show me your brother’s holdings or we can go to the river or walk through Nabol.”

Soromiah merely nodded then smiled as she stepped back. G’lenan tucked her hand into his arm as he escorted her toward the people gathering before the hold. Later, as he and Boath spiraled over Soromiah’s home, he concentrated on the structures to be certain that he could return easily. What people at Fortingall who had not gone to the Gather had greeted him with respect and tried to offer him refreshments and make him stay once they heard that the Holder was still several hours from home. He noticed the looks of significance that Soromiah received from the older women and hoped that he’d be greeted with as much esteem when he returned in a sevenday.

###

Following F’lessan’s advice and Mirrim’s admonishment, he directed Boath to an alpine lake west of Benden Weyr to be sure he didn’t return too soon. He had only timed it by six hours. After dinner he directed Boath to Mirrim and Path’s weyr. Path looked morose but her eyes swirled a pale blue as they landed on the lip. Boath crawled over to her hatchmate as they briefly twined necks the snuggled next to each other. G’lenan walked past the pair into Mirrim’s sleeping quarters. She was sitting on her cot staring at the opposite wall. He sat beside her and she leaned into him.

“You predicted to within a sevenday,” G’lenan said gently.

“I hate being right all the time,” she replied dully.

G’lenan put his arm about her shoulder pressing her face into his neck.

She heaved a sigh. “Will you see Soromiah again?”

G’lenan grunted an assent. “I am invited to breakfast next restday at Fortingall Hold. Nice spread. Land looks fertile and unthreaded. Lots of runners too.”

With another sigh Mirrim stated, “Bring her brother a fire lizard egg as a gift. I know where to get one.” Mirrim shifted to lay atop the furs curling into a fetal position. He nestled into her back and held her while sobs wracked her body. After a while she fell asleep. G’lenan’s mind wouldn’t allow him such rest.

T’gellan’s wing and Arwith’s rider had left three months previously. Mirrim’s conduct had been tolerable but he knew her heart to be aching for the bronze rider. She used to bespeak Boath directly and he thought that she probably could bespeak Monarth. He knew that Willa had spoken to Plinenth and several other dragons, including Boath. It must have something to do with being a woman. As far as he knew, Mirrim had quit speaking to any dragon except through Path. At times he thought the change had happened after Path rose on her first mating flight and other times, he was sure it was the sudden departure of T’gellan. No amount of assurance from him could convince her that T’gellan would ever come back to her and yet. And yet…

He moved his arm from under Mirrim’s shoulder. It was numb. She mumbled T’gellan’s name and sighed. And yet, she hadn’t let her bronze rider go, not even in slumber. The only person he could think to tell his eagerness for Soromiah was too distraught to appreciate his joy. T’gran had thanked him at dinner for his discretion with the girl and bringing her home on Time. He showed no surprise or regret when G’lenan said he was going to visit her next rest day.


	18. Hatching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A portion of Ann McCaffrey’s Dragonrider Ballard appears in this chapter

Talina roused when Arwith rumbled. “ _I lay my eggs in sand. Eastern and”. Sand at this weyr is warm without under-heat._ ” Talina rolled covers over her head. For the last month she had argued with her dragon and the leaders of Eastern over where Arwith would lay her eggs. T’gellan insisted that P’wer continue the plans on the seaside. Talina, instead, used vital manpower to not only clear the rich soil from the flattest spot on the river side but demanded they used draft animals to haul huge quantities of sand. The Weyrfolk grumbled because flat surfaces would have made good foundations for homes and other buildings. Some looked longingly at the wide expanse of tawny sand that could have been where they slept and their children took Harper lessons while others looked at their Weyrwoman then shook their heads. Why did dragonriders have to be so self centered?

“ _I have many more eggs to leave on this warm under-heat sand,_ ” Arwith said smugly.

With sudden realization, Talina sprang from her double cot and hurried on a light dress forgetting the new gown she had commissioned when the eggs were laid. “She didn’t wake me,” she thought to herself, “Scorch and sear her disloyal hide“. She exited her cave falling in step with the excited Weyrfolk who were walking toward the seaside of the saddle and up toward P’wer’s bathhouse. He had finished the hypocaust system behind the long stone building. And, it was full daylight, “Scorch her hide black,” she thought again.

The bronze and other queen riders were atop the bathhouse facing the sandy bowl and cheering. Delianna and Volkona flanked T’gellan. All the people on the roof suddenly cheered, raising their fists into the air as the growing roar of the Weyrfolk reached her ears. Then the booming of the dragons shook the ground. They were lining the cliffs above the bowl. Their bronze, gold, brown, blue and green forms dappling the crags and spires like spatters of iridescent paint on a striated grey wall. Quickly she hiked her skirt climbing the ladder to the roof. As she rose to the top, P’wer grabbed her by the armpits, hoisting her to the roof. Exuberantly, he first hugged her then twirled with her a few times.

“I told you, I told you,” he cried happily. “Arwith does prefer my hatching grounds.” He let her go abruptly to link arms and spin with H’rogan then F’nton. Talina straightened her gown then marched to where T’gellan stood. He had just finished hugging and kissing Delianna and was in the process of kissing Volkona as she tapped his arm.

T’gellan’s face was wildly happy as he released Volkona and lifted her over his head. “Gold, Talina! Arwith produced a gold!” He laughed crazily and held her close for a passionate kiss. He had barely touched her since the day Monarth flew Arwith and she was unsteady as he released her but kept hold of one hand. She faced the crowd lining the bowl where off to the side Arwith was straining to lay another egg. In that undignified position Arwith lifted her long neck to the sky and stretched her tail behind her. She lifted her hind legs and stepped forward to reveal another mottled egg.

“That’s the twelfth,” Volkona said as she pressed a charcoal stick to the paper held to a flat wooden tray. “I’d wager that one is a bronze too.”

“I can take over that task, Volkona,” Talina said with more antagonism than she meant to reveal, reaching for the tray.

“Don’t be silly, Weyrwoman,“ Volkona replied with amenity. “Stand next to the Weyrleader, look pretty and triumphant. Arwith has laid a golden and at least four bronze eggs and I’d wager that she’s not half done.”

Talina sputtered as T’gellan’s hand let go of hers to pull her by the waist to his side. He nuzzled her ear somewhat seductively as he hissed, “For the sake of your dragon’s hide, woman, take Volkona’s advice. Our Weyr, our very future rides on these eggs. At least look pleased.” As he straightened, the excitement still on his face, he threw back his head and cheered as Arwith bunched for another egg. She looked back to the left but K'lomar had stepped between her and Volkona. He gave her a severe look then out to the sands, smiling. She had no choice but to face the crowds, her Weyrfolk, and show some sort of positive emotion that Eastern’s first clutch boasted a golden egg.

That evening, as T’gellan took her elbow to escort her to the head table, she did not have to pretend her smugness; Arwith had laid 30 eggs. Riders were inclining their heads as they passed, looking directly at her with admiration for the first time. Even the commoners were smiling directly at her.

T’gellan placed her between F'nton and H'rogan at the head table then stepped away to speak to one of the herders who was approaching. She looked first to H’rogan who smiled cordially as he congratulated her and Arwith. F’nton echoed H’rogan’s sentiments. Riders formed a line past her; each saying something congratulatory as he passed.

Meanwhile, Volkona moved beside T’gellan as he finished assuring several of the landsmen that the riverside hatching grounds were now theirs for whatever use they wanted. She nodded assuredly to the dour faces.

“Come now, Vetner, Olney,” she said nodding to each landsman. “This particular difficulty with the Queen dragon is over. We simply didn’t know where she would lay her eggs. It’s not like a runner or herder beast that you can pen in. How do you expect us to pen in the sky?”

Vetner harrumphed while Olney kicked his boot into the gravel of the walkway. “Aye, Weyrwoman Volkona,” Olny said looking directly at her. “Will’ya be taking any other tracts on this side or will it be as The Weyrleader says?”

“You have my word,” T’gellan cut in. “With the exception of the infirmary and mess hall, which are shared; this side of the saddle is under your control.”

Vetner frowned, “Hard to believe, after all the work your folk made us do dumping sand over arable land.”

Volkona watched T’gellan’s jaw work then he smoothly answered, “You have every right to doubt us, Vetner. But please consider this; the land is as new to us as it is to you. Four months ago, there was a grove of trees where we now stand and that sandy spot were hardly level.”

“The Weyrleader makes sense,” said a woman who chose that moment to walk between the dragon riders and landsmen. Stout, with a broad face and graying blond hair in a severe bun atop her head, she grinned up at the group, “Before today, I’d never seen a dragon egg, let alone watch one be laid.”

Olney added, “Yes, Valta. It was incredible to see.”

“And wait until the hatching! Why it will be your young standing on the sands before those eggs,” Volkona added.

Vetner brightened for a moment, “I suppose. I’d never been to a hatching.”

“As much as you have never lived so close to dragons and their riders, remember that they have not always been so near to our ways either,” Valta added as she hooked her arm into Olney’s. “Creating a living out of this rough country is going to take more than the hard work we’ve all been putting in. This’ll take closer cooperation than any of us have ever had to bring.”

“Thank you Headwoman Valta,” T’gellan said genuinely. “We are all of Eastern Weyr. I must say I intend to give your way of thinking more weight.”

Valta beamed. Vetner threaded his arm into Valta’s free arm bowing slightly, “Aye, I suppose that Weyrwoman Talina had to answer to her golden. She’d been so adamant that I have to say I was a bit offended when the egg laying was at t’other site. But it’s all to the better now.”

Valta added quickly, “It’ll be to the better that you sit to the tables so’s we can begin the feast.”

“Yes,” Volkona agreed as she took T’gellan’s arm pulling him back to the Weyrleaders’ table. T’gellan’s demeanor darkened.

“I should beat Talina publicly tonight,” he snarled. Delianna appeared before him looking first at him then to Volkona. They stopped while still in a spot unlit by the torches.

“Did you ask him?” Delianna looked to Volkona.

T’gellan unlinked his arm and moved so he could look at both golden riders’ faces. “If you’re asking if she pleaded that I don’t box the head herder’s ears, I complied without the request,” he spat.

Volkona shook her head and looked down for a moment, “Delianna and I want to plan the first hatching.”

“Talina barely had the tact to get Arwith’s eggs to the sands,” Delianna added. “Please, T’gellan, tell us we can override her. It has been tricky keeping these people from choking her this past month.”

T’gellan held up his hands defensively, “I know but we had to have those eggs safe before I meted any discipline on Talina. I can apply a bit more now that a golden egg lies on the sands. I believe the two of you would bring more than honor with your plans for the first hatching. I suppose neither of you would want to include her?”

Both women looked stricken which made T’gellan chuckle. “I won’t announce it tonight but you have my authority to plan events for the hatching.” Both women smiled in relief. “What are your thoughts on putting more girls on the sands?”

“You plan to put girls to the green eggs!” Volkona answered. “I am pleased, more than pleased!”

Delianna looked thoughtful before adding, “Yes, Igen now boasts four women green riders since Path’s rider of Benden… You know, T’gellan, Talina dislikes your Mirrim.”

“I’d call it envy,” Volkona interjected.

“Well there’s never a more advantageous time to control a queen rider as when her dragon has eggs hardening,” Delianna added while looking directly at T’gellan trying to gauge his reaction. “Talina’s aversion could work to your advantage.”

T’gellan smiled pleasantly, “I thank you for your advice on how to handle the Weyrwoman. I believe I have the ability to persuade her to act accordingly.” He bowed and both queen riders knew that he had accepted their request as well as dismiss them. Each bobbed a curtsy, turned and skipped to the Weyrleaders’ table. S’form stepped from the shadows into T’gellan’s view.

“Please let me and especially P’wer be present when you do turn Talina onto your knee, for a beating is what that girl needs.”

T’gellan chuckled while clouting S’form on the back, “I expect my powers of leadership are enough that it never comes to pass.”

“I will share with you an insight,” S’form said while lowering his voice and stepping closer to his hatchmate. “Talina has complained to me more than once that you never let her stay within the walls of your weyr to daybreak.” S’form shrugged and stepped back into the torchlight taking his seat beside K’lomar and his latest woman.

H’rogan abruptly left his seat next to Talina. Without his constant chatter, Talina caught a snip of Delianna and Volkona’s conversation about seating at the seaside bowl. A fury boiled up from her belly. What right did they have in planning this hatching? She was not going to allow any Oldtimer customs on Arwith’s eggs.

“Don’t suppose your Igen plans on the First Hatching, Delianna,” Talina tried to say quietly.

“Nonsense,” Volkona interrupted, “We plan new, Eastern customs for this First Hatching.” She said it loud enough for the bronze riders to hear. Talina was certain she did it with malice. At least T’gellan, who was walking up to his seat beside her, scowled at Volkona first before directing his reprimanding gaze upon her. Talina straightened, facing T’gellan waiting to assert her right as Eastern’s Premier Weyrwoman.

Instead he softened, “Come to my weyr tonight, Talina. Tonight, especially, we should be together. But right now, it is time for celebration.” He held his hand out to her. “Weyrwoman, we cannot begin this feast until you confirm the count!”

She smiled delightedly. Too often he had sided with the others. Deference from everyone was owed Arwith and her rider tonight, even the Weyrleader. She stood then stepped upon the bench holding her arms high. As on cue the crowds quieted. As loudly as she could she stated “I present to the Weyr Golden Arwith’s clutch by Bronze Monarth. Thirty eggs: amongst them a queen. Our Weyr grows!’

The cheering palpitated the air. Then the singing began: “Oh tongue, give sound to Joy and Sing! Of Hope and Promise on Dragonwing.”

 

###

 

The festivities were beginning to wind down when T’gellan beckoned to Talina. She graciously laced her delicate fingers with his roughened digits. They walked over the saddle then along the walled path to his stone weyr. Monarth was stretched along the side of the building. His head, resting on his forelegs, tilted slightly away from the door which was constructed of two wooden panels. T’gellan pushed through them into a rectangular room that boasted a long table with benches. Denied his conference room, he had revised the construction of his weyr to hold councils.

“C’mon,” he said, dropping her hand and signaling her to follow. He pushed aside a heavy curtain then unshielded a glow basket to bathe light on a smaller room. His cot was under a large, deep-sash window. He put the basket on the press adjacent to the cot as he leaned over it to slide a series of thin strips of overlapping wood across the window. Once the room was effectively sealed, he turned to her.

Talina released the clasp at the nape of her neck and let her gown fall. She stepped out of it and walked toward T’gellan who had removed his clothes. He held her tenderly then picked her up and rested her on the cot.

Since coming to Eastern, Talina allowed herself only the Bronze Wingleaders. She considered T’gellan a solicitous and thorough lover. On those occasions when she could entice him to her weyr, the surprise was his keenness to pleasure her. H’rogan was definitely the most energetic; P’wer the most appreciative but T’gellan knew how to bring sensations to her body that were evocative of a mating flight. Tonight T’gellan was more thorough than usual. As she lay wrapped in the soft furs and in his arms afterwards, she was certain he was asleep. She couldn’t help giggling. She was going to wake up with him, in his weyr. No woman, to her knowledge, had managed that but Mirrim.

A wintry, commanding voice broke her reverie. “I tell you now, Talina, Delianna and Volkona are in charge of First Hatching.”

Before she could launch a protest, he continued, “Do not speak. Your behavior since the mating has been deplorable. I tell you now, Talina, you will not order any more people to do so much as carry water. I catch you even trying to tell a drudge what work to do; I will publicly set you over my knee like a three-turner. You will abandon that flat spot on the river side to the non-dragon folk. You will set up living quarters next to Arwith’s eggs until they hatch. And, we will put girls to the green eggs.”

Talina felt the burn in her belly and as she tried to rise. She found that he had swaddled her in the furs. Angrily she spat out, “There will be no girls on the hatching grounds except around the queen egg. I will not be responsible for another girl green rider on Pern.”

“You have no say in the matter. Ask Arwith.”

Talina tired to twist out of the cocoon but she was trapped. “I am The Weyrwoman; I will have my say in this matter. No women green riders at Eastern!”

“The Queen and Bronze riders are of one mind. You have been negligent toward your duties. You will defer to the judgment of those with more experience and dedication until you prove true worthiness of a Weyrwoman.”

“I won the right of Weyrwoman when Arwith rose first.”

“Yes, we both won our leadership but now we must prove worthy to these people or we will lose it. And you are causing these people to question their decision to leave established homes to come to this wilderness. I tell you now, you will comply or you will be replaced. T’gellan rolled over her, pinning her, “One more thing, I am inviting Mirrim to Eastern.”

“No, No, NO!” Talina’s impotent rage pored through that dissent. “You want my compliance with Delianna and Volkona then you will have it only if that woman never sets foot in my Weyr. You will not bring Mrrim here!”

“Done.” T’gellan said with toneless finality. He rolled off of her and was silent.

Talina struggled to extricate herself from the furs to no avail. “T’gellan! Get me out of these furs.”

“No”

“I agreed to your demands. You have made your point. Release me.”

“Talina, we are bound to each other as Weyrleaders and I have had to endure the bounds of your ineptitudes until that golden egg was counted. You can endure the stricture for one night. Go to sleep.”

Even in her anger, Talina had to admire T’gellan’s tactics against her. He had lulled her into complacency, enforced his will and bound her to an agreement she had never meant to accede. He had even allowed her the empty victory of emerging publicly from his weyr in the morning. Her fuming cooled to musing. He merely mentioned his former lover’s name and she cracked like a green’s egg. She couldn’t feel completely abused. T’gellan had guided her to his will like markers between. “ _You may have your victory over me, Weyrleader but I will exact this price,_ ” thought Talina. “ _I will be your biddable Weyrwoman but you will not ever bring that woman to this bed. I promise you that upon the shell of my Queen._ ”

Cruelty tinged her next statement. “Did you hear that Path rose yesterday? F’lar set lots at 30 riders and the trading was high, even to a brown or two at High Reaches and a Telgar blue.” Talina knew T’gellan had registered her statement because he stiffened. He did not reply. “I’m trying to remember who rode her. I guess it doesn’t matter.” Soon the silence lulled her into slumber. The man beside her was not so fortunate.


	19. Green Riders at Play

Yesterday, Benden’s wings had fought a full, six-hour threadfight over their own weyr, the fertile eastern valleys, the hillsides full of vineyards, Benden Hold and almost to the plateaus of Bitra. Not one injury or mishap occurred to the great satisfaction of The Weyrleader and his Wingleaders. Best yet, no thread got through the ranks rendering the ground crews inactive. Rest day was tomorrow but today, the Weyrleader granted an extra day of rest. That was how pleased F’lar was with his riders and their dragons. The day was cloudless with only a hint of frost in the shadows where the sun had yet to reach. It was a beautiful day to appreciate before a harsh northern winter.

C’logar carried his bowl of porridge to the table where S’bald and G’lenan were seated. He sat across from them in Mirrim’s usual place. “What plans have you for a free day?” he asked.

Both green riders shrugged. “It’s too early to send a fire lizard to Soromiah to find if she can break free from her duties. We’d already made plans for tomorrow.” G’lenan said.

S’bald added, “Waste your restday on that girl tomorrow. We should go to one of the island beaches or south of Nerat and let our dragons play in the surf.”

C’logar and G’lenan brightened. “To be sure, that’s a proper reward!” C’logar replied. “We need at least nine more green riders then we can have a play at Surfs on Nerat’s Tip.”

The three green riders searched the breakfast crowd to find at least eight more eager faces. B'mir and H'race were approaching with their own bowls of porridge while another of their hatchmates, B'salk, picked up his bowl and left a disappointed T’gor to join S’bald’s table.

S’bald slapped his hands together rubbing them back and forth. He looked to a table of older riders where he spied K’tonar who winked then walked over gesturing to two other green riders, F’rined and T’mbren. F'niral and G'naret were already slurping down their porridge in order to hurry over to S’bald’s table.

C’logar and G’lenan surveyed the rest of the tables for another green rider. “We’re one rider short.” C’logar said in dismay. No other riders made eye contact or waved that he’d like to join. Playing in the breakers off Nerat Tip was a young rider’s pleasure and his dragon could not be too big. The other riders understood implicitly that only green riders were welcomed on this jaunt.

“Maybe Mirrim?” B’mir suggested.

G’lenan and S’bald exchanged glances. “She’s run her low long enough,” S’bald said with a nod.

“It could lift her humor. I mean all her green hatchmates are going.” G’lenan added. “I know where she intended to spend her free day. She left early before she got saddled with herb gathering or some other healer duty. Boath and I will pop in and tell her that she must spend this special restday with us.”

“I’d give her another sevenday. The Weyrleader imposed the latest lots only three days ago,” warned C’logar. “I shall accompany you, brave G’lenan.” S’bald clouted his hatchmates on their shoulders before they exited the lower caverns. He remained standing in order to direct the other riders. B’mir and H’race were to collect victuals while K’tonar offered to check the maproom and F’rined decided to check tide tables. The rest of the green riders soon exited to the bowl as well, leaving the remaining riders bemused.

###

B’nard and F’tamad sat to breakfast with blue riders, B'ric and K'boral, who were also Mirrim’s hatchmates. F’tamad began, “Did either of you find out who drew the latest lots for Path?”

B’ric took a sip of klah then nodded. “S’alator pulled one, he’s willing to barter.” Both B’nard and F’tamad looked over heads for the squat bald man.

K’boral grunted. “S’alator just got off third watch. He’s ate and rose to his weyr already.”

B’nard tucked into his porridge and mulled over his klah. Path rose with regular frequency this past turn. Twice now, Mowalth had almost twined with Path. On the maiden flight Path attached herself to Fidith. The most recent flight was won by T’gor’s Relth. Both times Mirrim’s elbow connected with his eye. It may have healed but not his conscience. Like a bad dream he replayed Path’s drop then the abrupt return to the pit as Mirrim clung to an astounded G’net or worse, exultant T’gor. B’nard had turned away immediately and marched out of the pit. Mowalth was devastated. In the latest set of lots, B’nard was not fortunate enough to pull a green marble out of the basket.

He had begun visiting his boyhood home of Endyar after receiving a curious report from his mother, Lady Balla. She alluded that her cousin, Bonogan and his refusal to accept Lord Larad’s decision that Bolard as the legitimate heir, was the reason for Endyar’s latest misfortunes. Although he enjoyed the visits, something tugged at the hairs on the back of his neck. Had his twin abandoned their kin, taking his heirs? Would Bolard leave his wife, Bagira, with child and only the daughters? Bonogan would be the first beneficiary if none of Arden’s issue were fit to hold. Bolard and sons’ absence from Endyar was too convenient, especially after Arden’s death by freak accident. Then there were the thefts and disappearances of holders who looked to Endyar. The resident harper didn’t return after his visit to his crafthall the previous turn. If he wasn’t held to Benden by Mowalth, he would hold Endyar, find the root of their misfortune and burn it out.

Absently he rubbed the thin knife scar on his arm while his thoughts turned to Mirrim and her green Path. She was a clever one, Mirrim; she saw troubles differently than most other riders. But, she was so unapproachable. If her hair was longer, straighter; she could be Bagira’s twin. Mowalth wanted Path and Mirrim was not unappealing. However several other blue and brown riders still wanted that pair too. Path was gleaming again.

###

Mirrim and Path were settled on the dragon stone spire third-furthest from the shore. They faced south and remained like statues. A warm wind gusted from the south carrying the briny scent of the sea. Some waves capped white froth as they passed the spires on their way to the sandy shore. The sun was still climbing towards its zenith in a clear sky.

Path inclined her head slightly to the right. “ _Boath and her rider come._ ” A moment later, a green dragon soared over their heads, performed a quick turn on a wing and landed on the adjacent spire.

G’lenan raised his right arm with his gloved hand fanned out in a welcoming gesture. Mirrim returned the salute. “What brings you?” She called out. He cupped his hand to his ear and yelled back words that the wind caught before she could hear. “ _Why does Boath bring her rider to break our solitude?_ ” she asked of Path.

“ _Boath invites us. Miloth does too. The rollers on Nerat Tip are high. We go?_ ” Path replied with a hopeful quality. C’logar and Miloth hovered on the breeze above them.

She raised her arm in greeting to C’logar who waved vigorously. “ _Ask them how many?_ ”

“ _We are wanted for Surfs. Miloth’s rider begs us to be in his set._ ” Path answered. She lifted her wings and bugled toward the green floating above her.

Mirrim chuckled. It was difficult to deny her dragon a bit of water sport. They would feel the day’s warmth more at the southeastern tip of the Northern Continent. She held her right fist up and circled it twice. This time she heard G’lenan’s cheer. She buckled her riding straps then cinched down her helmet before giving Path the request to rise. “ _Call in Reppa, Lok and Tolly, please. Get a reference point from Boath too._ ”

When all three green dragons had attained a safe height they disappeared. Only a young boy, knee deep in a tide pool witnessed the event. He had been leaning over, picking spiderclaws out of the rocks when two green and a brown fire lizard zipped by him. He stood in time to see the green dragons. The three fire lizards rose to the same height before they too, popped out of sight. The other children continued working the tide pools and he knew to keep such things to himself. Otherwise how would his wish come true?

###

When Mirrim and Path appeared due south of Nerat Tip, the rollers were boiling over the worn rocks, breaking too late for dragons to ride them. However, the tide was coming in and by the time the sun was at its highest in the sky the waves would curl beautifully.

Path veered with Miloth and Boath toward one of the islands dotting the sheltered waters off Nerat Tip. Several dragons were already playing in the surf. Path gave Mirrim barely enough time to strip her of her riding straps at the waters edge before she bugled to her weyrmates then hopped and dove into the water. Mirrim quickly shed the wherhide jacket, pants and boots. She was glad to have put on shorts like what she used to wear in Southern that morning. She pulled off her woolen shirt revealing a sleeveless shift that reached to the bottom of the shorts. She continued to walk toward the group of young men who were assembled above the wrack marking the storm line.

G’lenan joined her. “Did you Time it back to Benden for such perfect swimming gear?”

Mirrim chuckled, “I was planning to wash and oil Path when the sun was at its highest.”

“So you were simply setting on a spire in the sea until then, waiting.” G’lenan stated more than asked.

Mirrim halted to look at G’lenan who stopped as well. “We had some thinking to do. We’re done thinking now.” She tossed her gear onto a thick, gnarled branch partially buried in the dark sand. She took care to place her boots upright and backpack beside them before dashing to the waves.

G’lenan was still shucking his gear. “Hey! Wait! What’yer done thinking about?” He began running down the beach after her. She was far ahead of him, already past her knees in the waves before making a clean, shallow dive.

S’bald, B’mir and F’niral lifted their heads in mild interest, laughing. Their general curiosity about their lone female green rider was never secret.

“She seems happier away from the Weyr,” B’mir noted.

“She’s more comfortable among her green brothers. No blue or brown riders following her every move.” S’bald said.

F’niral chuckled. “No women snubbing her company.”

“And! No Weyrleaders demanding she choose a regular partner. Could you imagine if they imposed that on all of us?” S’bald added while shaking his head.

“They did impose it on all of us,” F’niral countered. “That’s why I was so quick to move into D’wer’s weyr.

“And right back out!” C’logar added as he walked up the beach and placed his gear over a low bush. He put his hand on F’niral’s shoulder so that he could pry off his boots.

F’niral braced himself to help C’logar. “All of us declared for the first blue or brown that’d consent except Mirrim and G’lenan.”

“T’mbren, were lots pressed upon your green hatchmates?” C’logar raised his voice to the older green rider sitting with K’tonar and F’rined.

“No. None of us were. But then none of us ever had more than twenty rise on our dragons.” T’mbren looked toward the sea where Mirrim and the rest of the riders were cavorting in the waves.

The men were silent for a moment before S’bald broke their reverie. “C’mon, we came to play.”

For the next few hours the green riders rode their dragons as they dove through the waves. When the sun was high the twelve riders and their dragons flew out to the tip of the continent where the rollers from the sea met the shallow Nerat Stream, the current that brought rich nutrients in warm water up the eastern coast of the northern continent. Sailors were wary of the confluence for its unpredictable choppy waters and vicious undertow. When the eastern tides, pulled by Pern’s twin satellites, rose, the waves grew mountainous. The game was to ride as many dragons down the crest then lift before the wall of water crashed. Turns ago, in the shadows of the past, Weyrleaders decreed that no more than six at a time were to try the waves. Even oldtimer riders knew the injunction. Rarely had more than four been able to stay together then lift simultaneously. The fun was in sliding. Executing the maneuver in the air took turns of practice, water made it fun.

When the tide turned, the riders returned to their gear and some rest. They moved further up the beach under the shade of new fronds. S’bald and K’tonar broke off from the group and walked further inland. B’salk and F’rined ambled down the beach. The rest stretched out in a random order. Mirrim moved off to the side, gathered a few dry leaf blades and began weaving a mat. When she was done she sat upon it and began another. T’mbren watched her fingers flip the long thin strips. He stood and picked up several and brought them to her.

“Those are worthy of sale at a Gather. Would you show me how to do that?” he asked, holding out his collection.

She smiled her assent, presenting to him her partially finished mat. “Here, take this one.”  

“Aye, Mirrim, you should teach us all and then you could tend a stall at every Gather this turn.” C’logar’s voice floated from under one of the palm-shaped fronds.  Good natured laughter followed that statement, given Mirrim’s dislike of crowds, especially at Gathers.

B’mir propped up on one elbow and added, “Make a few hundred so that we can use the profits for wine. Why, we might even get you to dance, with enough profit.” 

Mirrim shrugged at T’mbren as a few more of her weyrmates ribbed her. For once, she looked pretty with the sunrays dappling her hair and skin through the leaves. T’mbren scooted beside her with the mat in front of him listening to her explain the over and under technique. She finished a second one as he was completing the mat she had given him. He smiled winningly as he pushed it under his seat. As he leaned toward her, he slipped his arm behind her then kissed her cheek.

Mirrim moved away to look at him then shook her head. He shrugged good-naturedly then picked up some more leaf strips and began making another mat. When Mirrim finished her third mat she placed it behind her head then leaned back. With her arms cushioning her head she composed herself for a nap. T’mbren gave up on his second mat then shifted closer to her. When S’bald and K’tonar returned they plopped down beside them. S’bald rested his head on Mirrim’s belly. K’tonar rested his on S’bald’s. Mirrim rubbed the top of S’bald’s head and tickled his ear.

“This was a wonderful idea, S’bald. Thanks for sending for me.”

“I’m glad you came with us.” S’bald replied. “It does my mind good to see you have fun again.”

She uttered a snort in response.

“And hear you laugh too,” K’tonar added. “I hadn’t heard you laugh since T’ge… since I don’t remember.”

“You are allowed to mention T’gellan’s name in front of her,” G’lenan’s voice floated from several recumbent bodies away.

“Oh,” both K’tonar and T’mbren exclaimed.

“I thought he was the reason you have not chosen a partner,” T’mbren added.

“I have not chosen a partner because I object to the injunction.” Mirrim removed her hand from S’bald’s head. Her hatchmates chuckled.

K’tonar sat up and stared down at Mirrim. “You make no sense. You could make a choice and be done with lots. Mirrim opened her eyes and stared at K’tonar until he became uncomfortable. “But, why do you want to put the blue and brown riders through the lots?”

“I’m not making them clamor for marbles; that would be the Weyrleader.” Mirrim said soberly then closed her eyes.

“My stars, you’re stubborn.” K’tonar replied with a nervous laugh.

Several of Mirrim’s hatchmates replied with guffaws and a few comments that ranged from “That’s an understatement” to “You just figured that out?”

K’tonar shifted closer to Mirrim, “Then you are not waiting for T’gellan to send for you? I mean that’s what most blues and browns think. They don’t object to the lots, mind you. So many want a go at you and Path.”

“I was so unaware, K’tonar.”

“Didn’t you know that she’s quite acerbic too?” S’bald drawled.

“I’m realizing a lot more.” K’tonar replied. He stood and began walking away. “Where are the meatrolls?”

Mirrim sighed and sat up. “Move your head S’bald.” She rose and walked after K’tonar. She stopped by her gear and grabbed her lunch. As she stepped beside him, she proffered him her meatroll.

K’tonar continued to gaze at the surf then looked down on her. Taking the roll he said, “Many of those blue riders who vie for a chance at you are my friends. They’re obsessed. They haggle and bet for the chance. And you don’t care what trying and failing for you and Path does to them.”

“As I said before, K’tonar, I am not the one forcing them. I am forced along with them.” Mirrim watched his profile while he bit down on the roll and chewed. She sighed. “Do you know how many times until Path rose that I heard that I am a green rider and no different than any other green rider? I heard it plenty; I think you even said the same. Yet whenever our leaders decide to single me out for being a woman on a green dragon, they do. If I hadn’t flown out at dawn this morning I’d be gathering redroot with the women right now. Another one of those different rules is imposing lots unless we’re weyered with another. I don’t blame my hatchmates for getting around the rule. But, if I did the same, F’lar would simply impose another rule on me.”

“F’lar imposed lots because no green ever had the entire Benden population of blues and browns fly after her. It was shocking to watch,” K’tonar paused. “No green rider should have to endure that. Not even the lone woman green…” He looked at her then turned away, awkwardly. Those sea green eyes penetrated his as if she could divine his thoughts.

He took another bite of his roll and returned to gazing at the waves. Until today, he hadn’t cared for Mirrim much. A slight resentment existed for her hold on a bronze rider and a greater jealousy existed for her ability to turn so many blue and brown riders’ heads. K’tonar had enjoyed the attention of those same men until she impressed Path. Dablarth was a well formed green dragon and as muscular as her rider. K’tonar flexed his arms unconsciously and stood a bit straighter. He had struggled with his disdain of Mirrim because she took the attention he had relished. If it hadn’t been for his attraction to S’bald, he would have found a way out of the today’s plan once he knew that Mirrim had been invited. Now he only felt shame. Mirrim was not who he had imagined her to be.

“Remember the lesson B’fol and I taught you in the pit? During your weyrling days? I had emphasized how green riders must always submit to their dragon’s desires?” K’tonar stopped with his thoughts. Perhaps this wasn’t the manner in which to amend for his invidious thoughts. “It’s healthy for her rider too, to submit to his desires.”

Mirrim looked sideways at him, “I’m not celibate, K’tonar.”

“That’s not what I was implying, it’s that you’re, well. You don’t seem to,” He searched for words that wouldn’t offend her but still satisfy his curiosity. “I’m sorry that I said that I though you were waiting for T’gellan.”

She grimaced before stating, “Didn’t you, during my weyrling days, say how a green can’t hold onto a bronze?”

“But the two of you really loved each other and he just left you for Eastern right after Path’s first mating flight.”

“I’ll let you in on a secret, T’gellan asked me to go with him but I told him no.”

His jaw dropped. “Incredible!” was all K’tonar could say after a moment. “You let a bronze rider go. I don’t think that a green rider has ever done that before. So why don’t you move on?” K’tonar kept to himself his thoughts that T’gellan had quite easily moved on and with very little effort considering how the weyr talked of their bond like it was as unbreakable as F’lar and Lessa’s or as potent as D’namal and Willa’s.

“You mean move on like a typical green rider; three or four lovers a turn, not counting Gathers and Festivals?”

K’tonar exhaled in frustration, “Just quit giving them a long chase without the satisfaction of submitting to one.”

“I hear you,” Mirrim replied during his pause, “Path revels in the chase but at some point I have to make her choose or she’d exhaust us and the dragons persistently after her. So far she’s not had a preference for any of the dragons who have caught her.”

“You mean she hasn’t truly been caught?” K’tonar chuckled. “No wonder, G’net still boasts about it.”

“I suppose I should make a choice for the two of us and be done with the lots. Perhaps, Lessa would allow women on the sands to impress greens if I did. I have at least proven to be an adequate rider in fighting thread.”

“You’re one of the best,” K’tonar rounded on her. “Neither Dablarth nor I would mind you and Path on our wing.”

“You’d leave F’lar’s wing for us?” Mirrim asked so sweetly that he almost missed the mischievous gleam in her eye.

He clouted her a bit harder than he meant and he marveled at how stoutly she absorbed it. “I was thinking more that you’d leave S’kel’s wing to join us.”

“Thanks for the compliment,” Mirrim replied. “I couldn’t leave my Wing.”

In the lull of the conversation, K’tonar thought of the blue rider to his right in F’lar’s wing. Now, there was a man who’d trade to S’kel’s wing to ride on her left. That man was Mowalth’s rider B'nard. For all that man’s taciturn manners, his obsession with Mirrim was obvious, at least to his wingmates. K’tonar wanted to ask Mirrim so many more questions which warred with his new-found respect for her. She and Path were a constant topic among his comrades, especially whenever Path started gleaming. He looked to his Dablarth who was sprawled on the sand with eleven other green dragons; Path was a shade deeper than the rest. Only greens would heap upon each other. No other color would mass together. He chuckled at the thought of bronzes piled over each other in blissful somnolence.

Mirrim chuckled with him, “See Leith’s tail flicking over Dablarth’s snout?”

K’tonar wondered again if she was able to divine his thoughts when Dablarth reared her head back on her neck and yawned. A growl emitted at the end which caused the other dragons to disentangle. A few shifted then stood, flapping their wings to rid their hides of sand.

“I’m dry and so is Path, I think I’ll head back to Benden,” Mirrim said.

K’tonar eyed the sky. “I suppose we all should.” He followed her back to the gear. Most of the other riders had congregated around the sacks of food that B’mir was handing out. H’race handed Mirrim a wineskin from which she drank before handing to K’tonar.

They finished their meal. Already, S’bald had invited all of the riders to come to his weyr for a soak before dinner. Mirrim was the only rider to decline. Once airborne she was the first to go between. From Benden’s bowl the green riders looked like an overhead spiral of emerald wings popping in perfect timing, descending then spinning off to their own holes in the massive walls of Benden.

Riders had been returning leisurely from their extra rest day. Some were burnt from too much time in the sun; others brought back fruits of their forays into the back country of the northern and southern continents. The women of the lower caverns were slow to deliver food since the riders were ambling in for a meal and lingering. Talk, laughter and some singing set the tone for the evening.

The green riders who played on Nerat Tip entered as a group and sat to a side table. When Oharan began playing a three-step melody, B’mir took Mirrim’s reluctant hand and danced her around their table. S’bald then H’race stepped in and each rider danced a few steps with her. The last rider to hold her was K’tonar. He leaned in close to her ear, “I ask even as I know the answer; come to my weyr tonight.”

She laughed.

“Come to anybody’s weyr tonight, Mirrim. Don’t always wait for Path to rise.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder then replied, “I won’t always sleep alone, K’tonar. You gave me a lot to think about and I’d like to think on it by myself tonight.” When the song ended she hugged him affectionately before stepping back to applaud Oharan and his small ensemble of weyr musicians.

As the music picked up tempo, Weyrfolk moved the tables and benches back for more space. Mirrim and her group sat at their table oblivious to the rest of the room. Mirrim in her usual position, faced away from observers while S’bald, facing her, watched them. K’tonar sat beside S’bald and enjoyed the number of times he met the gazes of blue and brown riders. He smiled broadly at B’nard each time he caught the man looking his way.

B’nard had visited his brother’s family at Endyar Hold. He had toyed with staying the night but was counting on dining with his wingmate to discover what kind of day he had enjoyed with the other green riders, especially since one of those greens had been Mirrim. He had not missed the dancing or the embrace that Mirrim gave K’tonar. The restday was going to be long before he could casually mention what he wanted to know. Something had changed in K’tonar’s attitude concerning Mirrim and perhaps that something would help him the next time he was fortunate enough to hold a marble on Path.

Three nights later, as B’nard and Mowalth sat third watch in place of S’alator, he rolled the green marble in his hand. The next time Path rose, Mowalth would catch her and B’nard would set his plans in motion.


	20. Eastern's First Hatching

PresentPass 15 – Late Fall

Delianna strolled into T’gellan’s weyr, tipped a straight-backed chair and slid into it. She tossed the rolls of papers onto the center of the table. K’lomar and F’nton were seated and looked up as the rolls slid to a halt before them. “Invitations accepted from all Weyrleaders, several Northern Holds, Cove, Paradise and Landing.”

The two men smiled. “Even Southern?”

“The Weyr, yes but since we received acceptance from Ruatha, Southern Hold pleads too heavy a load this season to break away.” Delianna said with a slight smirk.

Both men nodded; they were relieved to be free of the politics in seating the august leaders of Pern. K’lomar had been flipping through the papers. “What are these marks?” he asked while pointing to the series of numbers and letters in the lower right corners.

“It’s my way of knowing if any candidates came from their hold or craft. It’s also for which rider to send at the time of hatching as well as their seating.”

“Huh,” breathed F’nton as he pulled one of the invitations from K’lomar’s hands. “I thought T’gellan had planned for most of the candidates to come from over the saddle.”

“Oh, he has and they will,” she answered.

K’lomar shifted in his seat dropping the rolls of paper on the table and faced Delianna, “If you’re working the invitation lists and Volkona is working to build the stands and feasting area around the hatching grounds, what is Talina working on?”

“A new hatching gown, no doubt,” answered T’gellan from the door. An embarrassing silence grew as he tossed his helmet and gloves on the table. He walked the length of the room to hang his riding straps and wherhide jacket on the pegs next to his curtained sleeping chamber. When he turned back to the group, he winked. “Talina has been conscientious with Arwith and her eggs. When Monarth and I flew over only moments ago she hissed at us.”

“Talina or Arwith?” quipped F’nton.

“Both!” T’gellan replied as he grabbed his towel and bathing kit. “I’ll take a quick shower then I’ll be back.”

“Take your time Weyrleader,” K’lomar said to the tall man’s receding back.

Delianna rose. “I’m going to get the Weyrleader some food and klah. Want anything?”

“Klah sounds good to me. Thanks, Delianna.” K’lomar replied and F’nton echoed an agreement. She smiled at both as she left the room. Both men, with appreciative smiles, watched her walk away.

“What a Weyrwoman she would have made,” F’nton said wistfully as he turned back to his own papers.

“Uh-huh,” K’lomar agreed. “Chance gave us Talina instead. “But you have to admit, she has been quite pleasant since the eggs were counted.”

“That’s not chance; that’s T’gellan!” F’nton added, “The control that man has! I mean not only over a fighting wing but on that woman. Talina would be missing teeth if I had to contend with her.”

“Good thing Chance made him the Weyrleader.” K’lomar picked up Delianna’s papers. “But it’s mostly because she’s been weyred next to the hatching grounds that we have peace now, especially with the landsmen.”

“Perhaps, but in another sevenday or so those shells will start cracking,”  H’rogan added.

“And Talina will either move in here or back to her cave. We’ll see if his control still holds.” K’lomar replied. “Did you see on Delianna’s list the count of candidates? I think these indicate gender.” He pointed to the letters on rolls.

F’nton stood and leaned over to see where K’lomar was pointing. “If we’re going to put girls to the green eggs then you have to have more than a handful in front of the queen egg.”

K’lomar grunted. “I didn’t object, not like Talina did at first. I’m not sure what I think. What do you think of putting girls to the green eggs?”

F’nton drummed his fingers on the table a few times before answering. “My wing is for it, especially the blue and brown riders. Margatta put girls to Luduth’s eggs about three turns after Mirrim impressed Path at Benden. Only two impressed.” He sat back into his seat, leaning back. “Those rank and file riders were still waiting for one of ‘em to rise when my wing came to Eastern.”

“Igen opened the last two hatchings to girls. They have four girl riders, now. Ista plans to the next time they have a clutch hardening. Telgar will be one of the last Weyrs to break that tradition. I suppose I’m glad with my ‘aye’ vote when T’gellan put the idea before us.” K’lomar paused. He drummed his fingers along with F’nton. “Say, you impressed at Benden. Did you know the green rider Mirrim?”

“I know who she is. The first time I met her was shortly after the queens’ fight at High Reaches. I think she was brought with Brekke as her nurse. I was gone from Benden by the time she impressed green Path.”

K’lomar nodded. “One of my blues knows her from when she was at Southern. Bleth’s rider G’nareth said she treated both him and T’gellan when Southern was still for convalescing.

“Aye, that’s right!” F’nton interjected dramatically. “I was new to N’ton’s wing and T’gellan was his primary Wingsecond. Brown Keth took a clump of thread right through the first membrane of his left wing and ate into B’tarth’s leg. It leapt on an updraft. They popped out of between, both screaming. I still hear it!” F’nton shuddered, took a deep breath then continued. “T’gellan and Monarth appeared directly below Keth as he was starting to roll. I was sure Keth and B’tarth were going between for the last time, it was such a scream. Yeah, T’gellan was out for two months and B’tarth ‘n Keth were out for a full turn.”

“The famous Keth Catch, yeah. G’nareth said he was on the cot next to T’gellan the moment those two locked eyes; T’gellan and Mirrim. He asked me not too long ago when she’d be coming to Eastern. I know the two of ‘em were weyremates up until his wing was picked for here.” K’lomar looked curiously at F’nton.

“I guess if Monarth hadn’t caught Arwith, Mirrim’d be here already. It’s not likely she’d refuse to leave Benden because she was also at Southern and High Reaches.

“What does she look like? I can’t get a straight answer out of G’nareth. All he talks about is her bedside wisecracks, healing hands and the beautiful green Path.”

F’nton snorted. “That’s all blue riders can think of, the tail of a green. I haven’t seen Mirrim since, well maybe it’s been almost eight turns. She’s got brown hair, tall for a girl. She was filling out up top quite nicely. She could have turned out pretty. Path is a small green, amazingly agile. Wasn’t she a high scorer at the Telgar games about four turns back?”

“Meh, I’ve never put much store in the Games.” K’lomar replied while scratching the dark stubble along his scalp. “G’nareth is one of my best riders, good man going into his sixth decade and still holds his line in a threadfight.”

Both men worked silently on their wing lists until Delianna returned with two drudges laden with trays. She carried a pot of steaming klah using heavy wherhide mittens. Both men stood to take the heavy pot from her. She smiled appreciatively.

As she and the drudges left, T’gellan returned, clean-shaven and hungry. The men broke for the meal which satisfied the three of them. For another few hours the riders prepared for the next day’s threadfall. In order to continue the tremendous amount of work for both man and dragon, T’gellan used only half the weyr for threadfights. However, T’gellan was meticulous that all riders flew a threadfight and rotated positions as well as wings. With such a small pool of riders, the rotation helped with rest from the constant rock and dirt work as well as the regular menace of thread. Plus the rider who flew thread was awarded half the day after, free.

After T’gellan released F’nton and K’lomar, he remained at the council table. Flipping first through the wing lists then the guest invitations, he sighed heavily. Putting the lists into three piles, he peered out the window noticing the shadows of the spires reaching almost to the bay. “ _Dinnertime soon,_ ” he thought. He stretched his long legs under the table before rising. Rather than leave for the mess hall on the other side of the saddle, he went into his room, unsheiding a glow as he dropped the heavy curtain.

He dug under the heavier clothes in his press until he found the old hide. Gently he unwrapped the contents. The glass brown fire lizard rested on the pale yellow hide. He supposed that the brown coloring put into the glass was what made it stronger than the green or clear. That must be why it survived the hurl into the wall. He recalled how his temper got away from him that day, shaking his head.

As he held the small figure up, turning it in the light, a vein of honey gleamed off the broken part of the wing. He thought of the highlights in Mirrim’s hair. The color was the same. Her hair was short now and no longer sun streaked. If she lived with him in Eastern the sun would brighten it like it was the first night she slept in his weyr. With a hefty sigh, he rewrapped the small figure and put it back under his heavier clothes. He stood and donned a tunic before exiting his room.

As he left his weyr he looked towards Monarth who was lying on his back. “ _Mirrim belongs with us at Eastern,_ ” he thought towards Monarth who sighed and flipped to his stomach which showered T’gellan with sand.

 

###

 Lania crept into the small weyr that was tucked into the corner of the hatching grounds. The sides were stepped so that people could ascend to the roof of the bath house. The room was triangular tapering to a point about a dragon-wing high at the center. Talina’s cot was directly under it. She gingerly nudged the sleeping form. “Talina, it’s time to wake. The eggs are moving.”

Talina flung her arm in Lania’s direction but the girl stepped back before her head could be clouted. “Five more minutes,” she mumbled.

“If you want to be ready before the guests arrive then you better get up now. I have to get back to the kitchens and I’m not coming back.” Lania took several more steps back to the right of the door as a flat sandal struck the wall. She grabbed it and held it as if to wield it as she crouched. “Get up, Talina. Benden Weyr is the furthest East after us; they’ll arrive first. Do you want to still be abed when Lessa arrives for her first visit to Eastern?”

As if receiving a jolt, Talina bolted to a seated position. Lania flung the sandal at her head then dashed out the room. She took the steps two at a time to the Bathhouse roof then crouched behind one of the wooden benches that had been set in preparation for the hatching. Talina, the fur wrapped about her shoulders ran to almost the middle of the hatching ground shrieking for Lania to return for a beating. She stopped short. The sun had barely lifted from the eastern sea. That child had woken her at dawn. Volkona would be behind this prank. But now, fully awake she realized that she stood among the eggs. One or two gently rocked. Arwith lay within a dragonlength of her. She cradled the golden egg between her cheek and foreleg. The one eye facing Talina was open and pulsing a morning sky blue. A shot of red spun from the center of the multifaceted eye.

“ _My children are ready. They are impatient to break their shells and sear thread. Do you feel them?_ ”

Caught up in the moment of her Dragon’s maternal reflections, Talina approached the great eye then reached to the brow ridge, gently caressing it until the eye shone a deep blue. “ _I feel their restlessness through you, my dear. They will hatch then soon fill these skies._ ”

“ _They will soon have riders and will no longer depend on me for guidance. Men and women will ride them in these skies._ ” The great multi-faceted eye pulsed reds, greens and blue while Talina caressed the brow ridge.

“ _You instigated this furor with the first girl green rider, dear heart. Can’t I change your mind?”_ ” Talina sighed leaning against the golden head.

“ _Your gender was meant to ride our green daughters. It was once so, the little ones tell me. It shall be again._ ” Arwith’s foreleg reached forward and pulled her rider closer to her head in the gentlest hug a dragon could supply. “ _Feel my children. They want to stretch._ ”

“ _Oh Arwith, you are the most magnificent dragon on Pern. I love you._ ”

From the roof of the bathhouse, Lania watched the intimate moment shared by the great golden beast and her rider. There was something redeeming in Talina when she tended to her dragon. Lania could almost forgive her for forcing her to Southern although she wasn’t sorry to have hit the Weyrwoman in the head with her own shoe. She slunk to the back of the bathhouse and took the ladder to the ground. Valta would want to know that she had been successful in waking the Weyrwoman on this most important day for the Eastern Weyr.

###

 As the sun rolled across the great southern and northern continents more guests arrived. The five bronze Wingleaders, assigned their Lord Holders and entourage, walked the awed spectators throughout the sprawling complex that was Eastern Weyr. The other two Queen riders entertained the visiting Weyrwomen down by the sandy bay. The day was clear. A sea breeze kept the heat and the bugs manageable.

Arwith grew fussier with each foreign queen and bronze that landed on the spires above the hatching grounds. The air was punctuated with her challenging howls. Talina was forced to beg off her entertainment duties shortly after Lessa of Benden had arrived as Ramoth was in no way intimidated by her daughter’s challenges, and wanted a closer look at the open hatching grounds. Talina stayed close to Arwith, placating her with promises of hunting the plains to the west once the hatching was over.

F’lar took the opportunity of gathering all the Weyrleaders to T’gellan’s council room for a quick meeting about the rapid changes at Landing. For a noon meal, people flocked to the tents set up on the sea side in front of the newly-built dragonet barracks. Most ignored the roars coming from the hatching grounds until the unmistakable hum of dragons filled the air. The commotion was barely contained as guests and Easterners converged on the grounds. Honored guests were seated atop the Bathhouse which had the best view. The candidates, all 88 of them, paraded up the back of the roof then down the twin angled steps onto the hot sand in undulating waves of white tunics. Twenty of them were female.

Arwith made a show of pawing the ground and snarling as the candidates approached her eggs. Talina had to exert control to make her move back so the candidates could advance. Later nobody could confirm with certainty whether the first egg that hatched was a green or a bronze. At first a small green snout protruded from her shell crying piteously. A stoneworker’s daughter, Cana, was in front of the queen egg with six other girls when the cries made her spin around and sprint to the green egg. At the very moment that she reached the egg a bronze exploded from his shell and young Marozen, son of K’lomar called out immediately, “His name is Ceteth!”

Meanwhile Cana was caressing the head of a green crooning, “Jermith, I am yours Jermith.” Tears coursed down her cheeks while her parents, stoneworkers from Telgar who came to Eastern and decided to stay, held each other crying just as earnestly as their daughter.

In all, five of the ten greens were impressed by girls. Seven blues, seven browns and five bronzes hatched and paired as well. Golden Siloth looked to Umoal, a local girl from a Keroon clan of herders that came to Eastern to domesticate the free-running herds. Sixteen of the new riders were of the people of Eastern. The feast in the late afternoon went well into the Eastern night.

By the time the shadows of the spires reached the water of Eastern’s bay, Talina was beginning to feel the drain of the day. Arwith needed feeding but these western guests showed no inclination to leave. Both Delianna and Volkona had suggested she tend to Arwith but she was reluctant to go. She ached for the accolades that had been lavished upon her so thickly this day and was loathed to miss a moment of it. H’rogan and K’lomar had both offered to accompany her to the southwest plains but she declined them as well.

When T’gellan approached her, hand outstretched, she accepted it without knowing his plan. Monarth landed before them on the back of the saddle. Fluidly, he lifted her and stepped up to the neck of his dragon. She felt Monarth bunch then spring to the sky. Cradled in T’gellan’s arms, she felt as secure as if she had been strapped. She was snuggling into his chest when she caught a flash of gold above her.

“ _I am hungry, I must hunt,_ ” Arwith said plaintively.

Talina struggled with her irritation that Arwith had summoned her mate and his rider rather than wait until the guests had left. “ _We would have gone soon._ ” Talina thought, trying to mollify her golden. “ _It was my duty to the other Weyrwomen…_ ”

“ _Weyrwomen take their queens to feed, Arwith’s rider._ ”

Hearing another dragon in her head stunned Talina into a stupor. It was mortifying to be reprimanded by Monarth’s rider but for his dragon to state her primary duty, shamed her. She looked to his face. T’gellan’s jaw was pulsating. His hold, that had felt so secure a moment before now conveyed his displeasure. “ _I am sorry, Arwith. I knew you were hungry. You have been hungry for days and you had to put up with all those other goldens in your Weyr today. Forgive me.”_

“ _What is to forgive?_ “ Arwith replied as she dove to the plains then plucked a fat buck in her talons. Her head snaked down to bite the head of her prey off as she landed. The beast went down her gullet in two more bites.

Monarth landed on a flat rock above the plain. The surface showed evidence of several previous dragon meals. The bronze lowered his head toward the golden on the plain so that the riders could see her as well.

“Tell her to slow down, Talina. She should not gorge like that.” T’gellan said quietly.

“ _My dear, bring your kills to the rocks or you will swallow dirt and grass along with your meat._ ” The golden looked up at her rider then launched to the air, taking her time to select her next beast. Her quick attack had scattered the herd but soon she was flying back with a bawling cow that chocked when her forcelaw crunched down on the neck. She landed next to Monarth then proceeded to pull at her kill daintily.

Talina felt T’gellan’s grip loosen. He heaved a deep sigh, “Eastern’s first hatching has been successful, Weyrwoman.”

“And quite satisfying too,” she added. She began to relax as well. The strain of gaining her leadership then establishing it with a golden egg and successful hatching had left her body stiff. She didn’t like the tiny weyr on the hatching grounds although she no longer fumed at the location.

“Aye, some satisfaction too,” T’gellan echoed. Arwith sprang from her perch, sailed low over the plain then snatched a wherrie bedded in the brush which squawked loudly once then went limp. She returned with her kill to her mate and rider. The humans watched her tear at the flesh and crunch the bones then swallow all parts of the beast, even the feet. She lifted her wings and extended her neck as a rumble became a prolonged belch.

“ _I believe you must be sated, my love._ ” Talina thought to Arwith.

“ _I am full and would like a drink of water then a swim in our bay before I curl on my couch for a sleep._ ” Arwith replied.

Monarth lowered as T’gellan pulled Talina by the waist and set her on the rock. “Go, take Arwith upriver for a drink then Monarth will join her in a swim.”

Somewhat hurt, Talina looked up into T’gellan’s cold eyes. “I, I have no riding straps.”

“You’re not going between, woman. Not with the meal Arwith just finished! Hang on to a neckridge.” Monarth suddenly dropped from their perch then soared above them turning to fly over.

Talina stepped over the bone fragments and jumbled rocks to her dragon then scrambled onto her neck. As gracefully as her mate, Arwith glided from the outcrop then lifted to warm air current. She flapped her wings a few times to gain momentum as she headed back to Eastern Weyr.

###

Mnementh burst into the air above the Benden Fingerstone. Ramoth appears a split second and a full dragonlength above him. Both dragons, with their riders, spiraled into the bowl and alighted on the broad lip of their weyr. Although they left the cool evening of Eastern Weyr, Benden’s fall breeze felt arctic. Lessa slipped from Ramoth’s neck; she pulled the riding straps from below the dragon’s chest. Absently, Lessa ran the leather through her hands only stopping when she felt a thin spot. She was examining it when F’lar walked up behind her.

Pulling her back into his chest, F’lar bent to nuzzle her ear. “Let’s get into the bedchamber before we turn to ice.”

She laughed huskily, “One day on Eastern’s Shores and you find a lovely fall evening too cold.” Her eyes did not stray from the thinning leather. Side by side, they entered the bedchamber. Instead of hanging her straps on the peg as F’lar did, she dropped them to the floor, deciding that repairs could wait until morning. F’lar had crawled into their bed as she walked into the bathing room.

“You can come one night to bed without a bath! I’m cold,” F’lar complained. “Come to bed and warm me!” Lessa answered with a splash. He sprinted from the bed and into the bath. She turned with initial annoyance but smiled as he dunked under. Her hair was carefully piled atop her head, fearing to wet it before sleeping. She moved to the opposite side of the bath and rested against the edge as F’lar remerged.

Drops of water shot towards her with a shake of his head, F’lar rested at the opposite side floating his toes toward the surface. “Eastern’s First Hatching was a rousing success, don’t you think?”

Lessa merely smiled.

“I expected a display of pageantry from Talina but she surpassed them with talents I didn’t think she possessed. She does both Benden and Eastern proud.”

“Oh please, F’lar. You are annoying me.”

“What do you mean,” he replied sitting up. “The progress at the new weyr is exceptional. I was impressed as were the other Weyrleaders. T’gellan exceeds all my expectations.”

Lessa slowly shook her head as she rose to gather some sweetsands from a bowl by the bath. “T’gellan has turned that wilderness into a functioning weyr and prosperous hold in half a turn. That is impressive but he is what I expected out of a man trained by both you and F’nor.

“What?! You give no credit to his Weyrwoman?”

She shot him a quelling look. “Talina was adequate, today.”

F’lar chuckled. He knew too well that Talina, with her Ruathan airs and indolent manners, had begun irritating Lessa inside her first turn as Arwith’s rider. He knew too, that his mate had ‘pushed’ a bit when Talina chose her lot. He also remembered that he didn’t mind contributing Arwith to the new southern weyr for the peace it gave Lessa to be rid of Talina. Besides, his faith in T’gellan was proven today. Any man who could constrain the likes of Mirrim would have no problem with a personality as malleable as Talina. He liked being proven right. “Talina suits T’gellan. They are a good match as Eastern’s Weyrleaders.”

Lessa snorted derisively, “Please, F’lar, stop. I would have rather seen Volkona or Delianna as T’gellan’s Weyrwoman. I’d go as far as to say that the two of them were the reason today’s hatching seemed flawless.” She didn’t add her thoughts of Mirrim’s suitability. She was at odds with her weyrmate regarding Path’s mating flights. While F’lar believed that the problem would abate once Mirrim chose a mate among the blue and brown riders, Lessa believed the obsession, of both dragon and rider, with a green’s rising was the more pressing issue. More women riding green dragons would solve that problem, not a complete change in Mirrim’s character.


	21. Endyar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pern and its inhabitants are the property of the late, great Ann McCaffrey. Most of these characters in this story are the creation of Ann McCaffrey.

PresentPass 16

Mirrim felt her consciousness rise through a blissfully-warm, euphoric daze. She sensed Path’s contentment to be next to Mowalth. B’nard’s dragon had caught her again. Suppressing her irritation, she rose on one elbow to glare at that persistent rider only to find him already regarding her. She began to rise but he pushed her back down.

“I don’t understand your reticence, Mirrim,” B’nard crooned as he stroked her cheek. “Mowalth and Path enjoy each other and I certainly enjoy you. Why are you so quick to leave the pit when you find yourself with me?”

“I am quick to leave regardless of the rider, B’nard. You’ve merely had the opportunity of witnessing it before.” She tried to rise but he rolled over her, essentially pinning her.

“If you’d declare for me and Mowalth, we could be in my weyr and quit with the lots and this pit.”

Mirrim struggled beneath him but he held her tight. “Get off of me, you wherspoor. I have no intention of declaring. Not for you. Not for anyone.” She snarled through her teeth.

“Ah, but you lie, my dear,” he replied with a quick peck to her nose. “You and I share the same predicament.”

“What do you mean?” Mirrim was taken aback.

“You’d take T’gellan.”

“And you would too?”

“No,” B’nard chuckled. “I mean that the one I want is also inaccessible. Much the same as how the two of you have been separated.”

“You want Talina?”

“Gah, no!” B’nard rolled off of her to find his trousers. She sat up as well observing the pit that was littered with the tatters of her blouse and skirt. B’nard returned with a robe for her. “You’d save on clothing too, declaring for us.”

“I don’t understand.” Mirrim stood wrapping the robe around her.

“Huh, and they said you were bright.” B’nard shrugged. “Come to my weyr tonight and I will tell you.

“I suppose I am to share your furs too.”

“Not necessarily,” B’nard chuckled again as he walked toward the curtain. “I’d wager that Mowalth and Path would always have to be involved. I’ll tell you about my Bagira and perhaps we can come to an understanding.” He exited the pit.

Mirrim mulled over the name; a woman’s name. No golden rider in any of the Weyrs was called that. No woman of Benden’s lower caverns was named such. He must have found a woman like G’lenan’s Soromiah. Married or betrothed, no doubt. She sighed. Although she was growing accustomed to Path’s mating flights, she was dead tired of B’mezal rolling those green marbles in the basket each time F’lar imposed the lots. Riders still maneuvered for Path’s next mating flight. She could be done with it if she’d only make a decision. B’nard was a decent rider, good man in a threadfight. Perhaps a visit to his weyr after dinner and a promise to sleep in her own weyr, Mirrim thought. She could at least listen to him.

She sat with her own wing at dinner. Her wingmates knew not to voice their speculation on Mowalth’s third catch of Path. B’nard sat with his wing, his back to their table. After she finished her meal and cleared her tray at the kitchen pass-through she approached him until all the riders at his table looked up. He inclined his head to her then rose. Chatter increased as the two walked toward the bowl.

Mowalth landed before them dipping his proud blue head to Mirrim who dutifully scratched his eye ridges. Before she could protest B’nard had lifted her to Mowalth’s back then mounted behind her.

“That was uncalled for,” she growled as he settled behind her.

He shifted forward circling her waist in his arms as he mentally asked Mowalth to rise to their weyr. Crooning beside her ear, he said, “We have appearances to maintain.”

Mowalth landed on the thin lip of his weyr and crawled inside with his rider and guest still on his back. The weyr was high, wide but shallow. Mowalth could spread his wings if he wanted. However, Path was also inside the weyr, nestled in the smooth stone couch. With characteristic annoyance, Mirrim mentally demanded of her dragon, _“Was this afternoon not enough for you?”_

_“I come to keep your promise.”_ Path replied, blinking the outer lids of her eyes.

Mirrim nodded to Path as she slid down the opposite side of Mowalth than B’nard.

“Come this way,” B’nard said as he walked past Mirrim and slid behind a curtain to a stone structure within the high cave. B’nard’s cave was one of the few that shared bathing chambers. The riders’ sleeping rooms were constructed of mortar and rock so that they had privacy from dragons and each other. Mirrim realized that the pool was actually in the middle of the cavern that could have fit a Benden queen, if she would concede to share. As she pulled aside the curtain, B’nard was at the next curtain. He beckoned to her then slipped behind it.

She entered the bathing chamber as B’nard turned two sconces to light the area. The pool was long and the room was open to the high ceiling. She gazed upward as three sets of fire lizard amber eyes looked guiltily at her from the roof of B’nard’s sleeping chamber. As she looked along the side of the pool she could tell that they had already dunked themselves.

“Molwalth invited them,” B’nard said absently as he kneeled by the pool and splashed his hand to the opposite side where another curtain covered the other rider’s room. “That’s P’llomar and Ladrarth’s side.

Mirrim harrumphed her response.

B’nard looked back at her and chuckled. “He’s a bit much at times, I’ll grant you.”

“He is most annoying,” Mirrim replied. “A bit of a troublemaker too.”

“Decent green rider,” B’nard dissembled.

“Your opinion,” Mirrim countered.

B’nard threw back his head and roared a laugh that echoed off the walls. He stood and approached her. “We’ll go back into the bedchamber. Sound won’t travel.”

She followed him, trying to stifle her aggravation as she heard her three fire lizards dive back into the pool.

“I don’t really care why you and P’llomar dislike each other so much. He was adamant that he would move from this weyr if you and I declare for each other. I’d rather share this weyr with sour ol’ B’mezal than that impostor.”

“This is why you want me? To rid yourself of P’llomar?”

B’nard regarded her for a moment, daring her to continue then shrugged. “It’s another reason the Weyrfolk will believe.”

Mirrim nodded, “You did mention a woman’s name. I didn’t recognize it.” She watched the man’s face, waiting for his reply.

“Molwalth and I want to keep this weyr, P’llomar moved to that side after we caught Ladrarth a few turns ago. Mowalth never tried for her again. And P’llomar, well, his appetites are not appealing to me and he, he doesn’t keep any lover very long either.” B’nard turned away from her, gauging whether to tell her about Bagira.

“What has this weyr to do with the woman you mentioned?” Mirrim couldn’t remember the name. Path was no help.

“In good time, Mirrim. I need to trust you first.”

“As do I.”

“Move to my weyr.” B’nard blurted. “We can set up a second cot, even a curtain. This room is big enough.” He moved about the room, gesturing. He stared at the far wall remembering long nights and lonely thoughts. “A few sevenday is all it will take to drive the other green rider from my weyr.”

“And the woman?” Mirrim asked B’nard’s back.

“Come with me next rest day, and you two can meet.”

Mirrim glanced around the room. She could imagine a family living in sections of this spacious room. She wished she could assess P’llomar’s bedchamber and weyr couch before agreeing to anything.

_“Ladrarth complains that her couch is too small and welcomes me to it. She is not happy here since Mowalth made her go to her own side.”_ Path said.

_“I would like a deeper bath,”_ Mirrim added. Her bath was always too hot and she usually filled a metal tub for bathing so that she wouldn’t scald her skin. However, her knees and shoulders couldn’t fit underwater at the same time.

_“Mowalth says I may stay with him on his couch,”_ Path added. _“He flies me well and is worthy of me.”_

She observed the stocky blue rider’s wide back and muscular legs and noted that he kept balling then flexing his hands.

“Next restday,” she conceded as she turned to leave.

B’nard was glad he was not facing her because he couldn’t mask his triumphant smile. “Stay a while longer, Mirrim. If you and Path fly to your own weyr now, others will speculate.”

Mirrim made a guttural sound of disgust, “why this need to appear as if we’re together?”

“It will be clear to you by the next restday,” B’nard replied, his features again schooled to disinterest as he turned to face her. “Stay a while; have a soak. Try out your new bath. It is slow to refresh and once P’llomar returns I will tell him we soaked in it along with the fire lizards. He has fouled it to spite me before. I am looking forward to telling him.”

“I have made no agreement to move to you weyr yet.”

“But you will,” he said as he handed her a towel then exited to his dragon.

###

It was a misty restday when B’nard and Mirrim lifted from Benden’s Bowl on their dragons. Path followed Mowalth as he pumped his wings a few times to rise above the wet air. Mowalth bespoke Path who let Mirrim know she understood the jump then they went between.

Mowalth and Path burst from between over the plains above the Greater Dunto River. Evidence that it was fertile land that had been cultivated for millennia spread below them. Stone walls stretched in straight lines and at right angles marking the barriers for runners and herders as well as newly turned fields. Mirrim did note that several of the fields lay fallow which she thought strange for this time in spring. Mowalth dipped his right wing to fly a wide arc over an abrupt cliff.

Miriam looked for the hold but only saw tumbles of rocks against the dun cliffs. It didn’t look natural nor did it look like a hold. As they followed behind Mowalth and B’nard, Path remarked, “ _Molwalth says we will land above the hold on those rocks. The blue rider wishes to tell us more of this hold before we land._ ”

Molwalth backwinged to a rather flat rock then hopped to the side so that Path could land. When she folded her wings to her back Mirrim was even with B’nard and no more than a few feet apart.

“This is Endyar Hold, my boyhood home.” B’nard said as he waved his arm before them. “I was to inherit. When I impressed Mowalth, the hold, the land and the lady went to my brother; my twin, my identical twin.”

“What of it?” Mirrim responded looking towards him.

B’nard nodded while still looking out at the lands. He faced her and considered saying more then hastily decided. “We will spend the next few hours with my former people. They know little of Weyrlife and you will be a,” he paused. “A curiosity. I know enough of your character that you will be respectful toward them.” He leaned back as Mowalth dropped. The blue dragon gracefully glided forward, dipping one wing to turn then land at the base of the jumble of rocks. “I also know you hate injustice,” B’nard whispered. “You will help us once you meet Bagira.”

As Path landed next to Mowalth, Mirrim observed that the first people to exit the hold were men, armed with swords and shields. They looked not so much to the riders as the surrounding cliffs and outbuildings. She was familiar with farmholds but now that she observed the area, she noticed that efforts had been made to clear all obstructions from the front of the sheer cliff. The work had been recent. No gardens, no shelters or outbuildings were near the cliff. The jumble of rocks she had viewed from above was actually the remnants of a rock slide. Some of it had been cleared. The approach from ground was created so that only one course lead directly to the massive front doors which were similar to Ruatha’s Hold. This marked Endyar as an ancient Hold, perhaps as old as Telgar itself. How defensive it appeared, especially for farm holders.

B’nard was standing beside Path holding his hand out to her. That he was wearing both a sword and a boot dagger did not escape her scrutiny. She lifted one leg over Path’s neck to land next to B’nard. She was hanging her helmet off the epaulettes of her wherhide jacket as the troops approached. B’nard stepped before her with his arms outstretched. “Kinsmen, I bring a guest, Green Path’s rider, Mirrim of Benden.” He swept aside as she looked up into the astonished eyes of the first man. He hesitated a fraction as a few of the men behind him gasped.

“Welcome to Endyar Hold Mirrim, green Path’s rider. Welcome Path of Benden Weyr. We are pleased to see you B’nard and Blue Mowalth. Welcome home.” He stepped forward with his right arm outstretched.

B’nard gripped it then slapped the man’s shoulder, “It is good to be home, Harlan. We swept to the north and west before landing. All was clear.  Do I expect all is well before the main hold?”

Harlan nodded, “As well as we can expect. Come! My Lady Bagira waits to greet you.

Mirrim walked beside B’nard with Harlan through the columns of men who followed behind them. She had hoped that a restday away from Benden would mean not meeting the eyes of each man she saw. These men looked at her with wonder. Outside of the Weyrs, a woman rider on a green must still be a novelty. She was practiced at dealing a direct gaze and found that they were quick looked away.

At the door, B’nard took Mirrim’s elbow in the etiquette of Holders and preceded the host of soldiers into the Hold Proper.  Near the door, stood a woman, who was of the same height and approximate build as her. Mirrim and the woman regarded each other attentively. B’nard had said something and both women looked at him briefly, not comprehending.

B’nard enjoyed their reaction to each other.  He had imagined the moment the two of them met and was pleased with the mimicked looks of disbelief.

“Incredible, Bonard! She could be MY twin,” the woman gasped.

“Lady Bagira, I introduce Green Path’s rider, Mirrim of Benden. Mirrim, this is my sister-in-law, Lady Bagira of Endyar Hold.”

Mirrim was the first to recover as she held out her hands, palms up. “I greet you Lady Bagira.” Path’s trumpeting was heard from without. With a start, Bagira remembered herself and covered Mirrims palms. She motioned to a drudge who shuffled forward for Mirrim and B’nard’s gear.

“I greet you Mirrim, Path’s rider.  Welcome to our home.” B’nard took Bagira’s elbow as she kept hold of one of Mirrim’s hands.  They turned. Two light haired girls curtsied simultaneously.

B’nard gestured to the girl on the right, “My niece Endicara and beside her is her sister Iricara.”

The taller girl inclined her head toward Mirrim and stated, “You do us honor Weyrwoman Mirrim.”

“She’s not a Weyrwoman. Mirrim rides a fighting dragon!” the younger girl interjected.

“Hush, Iricara.” Bagira warned.

“No, no, she is correct,” Mirrim said, taking her hand out of Bagira’s and placing it under the chin of the girl with eyes exactly like B’nard’s. “I ride green Path who chews firestone and breathes fire to sear thread from the skies of Pern. No queen would do that, so you are correct that I am not a Weyrwoman.”

The little girl’s grey eyes grew big with wonder while the older girl stepped back. “Unc B’nard rides Mowalth the blue dragon who fights thread too.”

The small ensemble in the reception hall looked up when a gray-haired woman holding a squirming child gasped. The boy slipped through her arms and toddled toward B’nard who swooped the giggling child up in his arms holding him high before settling him on his right side. “This, Mirrim, is my nephew Balarno, Barno, meet Green Path’s rider, Mirrim of Benden.  The little boy held out his fist which Mirrim covered with her hand.

“I greet you Balarno of Endyar Hold.” Mirrim said gravely.  She surmised that this child was the heir of the great hall and fertile lands beyond the cliffs.

The grey-haired woman approached gingerly, gazing between Mirrim and Bagira.

Bagira stepped beside the old woman bringing her closer to Mirrim, “Mirrim, this is my mother-in-law, Lady Balla. Mother, meet Mirrim of Benden Weyr, Green Path’s rider.” Balla’s grey eyes searched Mirrim then peered again at Bagira.

“I greet you Mirrim.” Lady Balla gruffed with a slight incline to her head. She turned abruptly to her son. “B’nard, you look well.  How is Mowalth?”

“My dragon is fit, Mother.” B’nard gave her a perfunctory embrace and kiss. “You look well too.”

“My legs ache and my hands are stiff.” Balla turned toward Mirrim holding out her hand, “Are you kin to Bagira’s people?”

“I, I don’t believe so, ma’am,” Mirrim replied carefully while lightly pressing her calloused hand to hers. “I grew up in Southern Weyr and came to Benden in my youth.”  

Bagira interrupted, “No mother Balla, I do not believe that any of my people became dragonfolk but I do admit, looking at Mirrim, I understand why you ask.” Bagira turned to Mirrim. “We could be sisters.”

Mirrim nodded. “I thought the same when I was introduced to you.” She understood better the gaping men.

“Come, Bonard, Bagira, and children. We must escort our esteemed guest to the dining hall for breakfast.” The old woman’s hand snaked into Mirrim’s arm as she began pulling her toward the archway from which she had entered the great hall. The keystone on the arch was highly polished like the pass-through arches in Benden’s lower caverns. They traversed a short hall that opened into a long room with a high ceiling.

The walls in the room were lined with paintings of former Endyar Holders. The nearest one showed Bagira’s family.  She stood next to her husband, an exact copy of B’nard with her two daughters in front of her.  Before Bolard, two boys stood.  All three males wore short swords in scabbards with elaborate metal scrolling. The design was similar to the pendants about the necks of the three females.  The picture next to this was of a burley man and Balla.  Standing before them were B’nard, Bolard and a delicate girl. The family portraits ran the length of the room.

Trestle tables were set diagonally to a table on a raised platform where an ornate wooden table was set with a light meal of breads and vegetables. Balla steered Mirrim to this table directing her to sit at the nearest seat. 

Mirrim watched Bagira, B’nard and Harlan sit toward the other end with their heads together speaking rapidly. Balla’s face moved into her line of sight. “May I interest you in some sweetbreads with a mug of klah, green rider Mirrim?”

“Klah, please,” Mirrim replied.

The old woman sat to obscure Mirrim’s view of the three at the other end of the table. She saw B’nard look at her and nod. She reserved herself for the Lady Balla’s scrutiny.

“In what manner are you acquainted with my son?” Balla began bluntly after she passed a steaming mug of klah to Mirrim.

She handled the mug taking an approving sip. “We are Benden riders. Your klah is strong. Exactly how I like it.”

“My son, B’nard, has never brought another rider with him before.”

Mirrim looked the old woman with grey eyes the same shape as B’nard’s brown. Balla was a solid woman who carried herself with a regal dignity. Mirrim perceived the steel of hardship and perseverance in this woman and was reminded of Brekke when she was trying to prompt reluctant information out of her. “To such a lovely Hall, I cannot imagine that I am

B’nard’s first guest” She replied while taking another sip. She pointed to the picture of Balla with her family. “B’nard has spoken of his brother but never a sister.”

Balla leaned back in her chair to look at her family portrait giving Mirrim a chance to view the rest of the group, including the children then she abruptly moved forward again. “I had been advised that my blue rider son may bring a green rider to visit one day but you are a surprise.”

Mirrim sat mum and boldly held Balla’s grey eye with her green, determined to give this woman no relief to her prying.

“You ride with my son?”

“In threadfights, yes.”

“You fly beside him?”

“B’nard flies in the Benden Weyrleader’s wing. My wing flies to the left and below two tiers during threadflight.”  That Balla knew something of Weyrlife, didn’t intimidate her.

“Then how come you by him?”

“We are Benden Riders.”  She replied and took another sip of klah. “B’nard told me that his twin is the master of this hold. Is he out in the fields on a rest day?”

“Bolard is delivering his sons to foster. I expect his return within a sevenday or two,” Lady Balla replied abruptly. “You do not fly in his wing but you know him well enough to visit his home. I find your presence in my hold curious.”

“Curious?” Mirrim echoed. “As a Benden rider, I am accustomed to being welcomed.” 

The set of the old woman’s mouth gave Mirrim indication that Balla was growing irritated. “Oh yes, you exalted dragon riders enjoy a charmed life,” Lady Balla growled. “You don’t toil in a field for your bread nor tend beasts for you meat yet you eat and drink your fill.”

“Your fields, beasts and home are unthreaded because of dragon riders.” Mirrim replied calmly. “Men like your son give up their homes, their people and their very selves to assure that others will continue to possess those things.”

Lady Balla blinked a few times before looking down at her clenched hands.  She flexed them and sighed. “I meant no insult, green rider. You are weyr-bred, you cannot know of the hardship the rest of Pern suffered since thread began. Look among these tables.  We have had these tables filled not because of fertile lands but because neither Telgar nor Igen riders would fly portions of our lands. The only comfort I have is that my son flies with Benden and not an Oldtimer weyr.”

“Lady Balla,” Mirrim began, “I fly over forests of Lemos, the vineyards of Benden and the fields that supply Bitra their bread. I have risked myself and my Path to keep thread from alighting on any of that land.  Riders are not always successful.  Sometimes thread gets through and sometimes thread gets a rider or a dragon. You may lose a field but we lose riders and dragons to injury and death. That is the hardship that you cannot know.”

“Endyar Hold supports the cots of 28 minor farms and we are forced to tithe to both Igen and Telgar in order to be assured that when we emerge from this hold that we still have a livelihood. We were still prospering when Arden was managing but since his death we struggle. I need my son to come home.”

“You said Bolard will be home within a sevenday or two,” Mirrim replied.

Balla gave Mirrim a look of contempt. “Are you what holds my Bonard to Benden?”

Mirrim’s temper was about to erupt. “Blue Mowalth holds B’nard to Benden and B’nard holds Mowalth to their very existence.“ She breathed deeply, “ _Path if there was ever a moment that a fire lizard diversion was necessary, it is now. Call Reppa, Lok and Tolly to me._ ”

The old woman’s eyes narrowed as she watched Mirrim’s eyes regain focus. Three fire lizards burst into the hall trilling as they flew the length of the room and back. Endicara and Iricara squealed with delight while dashing toward Mirrim who was now a perch for a red-eyed Reppa and two more subdued fire lizards. Through it all Balla calmly regarded Mirrim then fixed B’nard with a steely gaze.

Balarno overcame his shyness as his sisters clamored around the fire lizards. Balla rose gracefully. “The three look to you,” she harrumphed. “I am not finished with you, Mirrim of Benden.” She walked stiffly down the length of the table and past her son, daughter-in-law and steward.

B’nard nodded to her but kept listening to Harlan.

“ _Mowalth says ‘well done’ to you with the ma’am of his rider._ ” Path relayed.

“ _Tell Mowalth I will ‘well done’ his rider later._ ” Mirrim replied then answered the girls’ questions about her fire lizards. After a while, B’nard beckoned to her. She left them to the three children who were stuffing them with the remains of breakfast.

“Mirrim, I am going to take Bagira on Mowalth to the lower farmholds to drop supplies. Would you like to join us?” B’nard asked. She watched Harlan look to the two of them then questioningly at her.

“ _Mowalth’s rider wishes us to fly the front one to the heights._ ” Path said.

“Harlan, will you come? Will you ride with me?” Mirrim asked, deciding that B’nard must want to take Bagira away from his mother’s watchful eyes, not to mention that the steward seemed a bit uncomfortable too.

“It would be my honor, green rider.” He replied.

B’nard came forward for Mirrim’s arm as Harlan proffered his to Bagira.  “Endicara, watch your brother and sister,“ she admonished as the four exited the room. The men-at-arms were stationed about the outer rooms at the windows and door. The drudge who had taken their wherhide gear now carried twice the load.

About half the guard walked the riders to their dragons. B’nard leaned towards Mirrim’s ear, “Follow us to the first farmhold then you and Harlan will fly the mountain passes.”

“Am I looking for something?”  Mirrim asked as she slid her arms through her jacket.

“Harlan will show you where to fly.  He will do the looking.” B’nard stepped away to Mowalth who had crouched while Bagira scrambled onto him. Both Lady and dragon seemed at ease with each other.  Mowalth didn’t mind the men strapping sacks onto his back. Mirrim turned to Harlan and gestured for him to follow her onto Path. 

They flew the length of the valley then veered west to a farmhold that consisted of long low stone buildings.

As both dragons landed adjacent to the low building a runner and her colt bolted from under the eaves. A young man, dressed in patched pants and jacket ran in a futile attempt to bring them back. “Curse your daft arses to the wherries,” he cried shaking a fist.

“I could have Mowalth bring her back, Cursto,” B’nard drawled as he and Bagira dismounted carrying heavy sacks.

The man spun around to face the rider and Lady Holder. He sputtered then regained his bearings. “You’ve brung the seed, Master Bonard. I suppose that were worth the half day walk I will need to bring that nag back.”

“We brought some cereal and cheese for you and yours too,” Bagira added as she walked past him to the hold where a tired woman holding a baby greeted her.  The two entered the cot while B’nard gestured for Cursto to take the sacks.  He turned to Mirrim and Harlan, “Go on, we’ll catch up.”

Harlan murmered into Mirrim’s ear.  Head north, Path’s rider.” 

Mowalth pressed his muzzle into Path’s neck and warbled.  She bunched her back legs and pushed to the sky.  The last thing that registered in Mirrim’s mind as they veered north was that the poor farmer had not noticed the second dragon until they lifted. His gaping mouth was awarded with a mouthful of silty dirt.  She asked Path to fly back the way they had come.  A tap on her left shoulder and Harlan gestured toward the northwest. With a request to Path, they veered away from the wide valley that ended in the towering cliffs of Endyar Hold.

Path caught an air stream and glided in a northerly direction. They passed over the rough terrain of the Southern Telgar Range. There were few examples of habitation. Even at late spring, the summits were tipped with snow. Straight ahead was a frozen alpine lake. Harlan tapped Mirrim’s shoulder again, gesturing in an arch behind them. This time, Path turned immediately with the man’s gesture.

“ _Do you hear Harlan, Path?_ ” Mirrim asked.

“ _The heavy one behind you thinks loudly,_ ” Path replied.

“ _How interesting. I wonder if he should have been searched._ ” Mirrim mused. “ _He is following B’nard’s orders, I am certain of that._ ”

“ _He follows the angry and the lonely ones’ orders more what Mowalth’s rider wants. They are all frightened and not like thread fear._ ”  Path continued. “ _The air tastes of metal._ ”

_“Yes, we are over mines, I suppose that the heavy one wants to avoid them. Is he too heavy for you, my love?_ ”

“ _His mind is heavy. I am strong.  I can carry 10 of him and not feel the weight._ ” Path boasted.

Harlan tapped her shoulder again and yelled but the wind swept away his words. Mirrim shifted to glance at him then pointed down.  She could see him nod vigorously.  Once among the peaks, he leaned in close to her ear and said, “If you can, green rider, land on that slope.”

Mirrim relayed the direction and request to land to Path. As she prepared to settle in the middle of the field she lifted with a shriek then landed on an outcrop of rock in the middle of the slope. She hissed and her eyes were red.

Mirrim surveyed the ground in disgust. “This field has been threaded.”  She looked back to Harlan who was unstrapping himself. “What are you doing?”

“I want to walk this field.” Harlan dismounted and began navigating the rock down to the sloping field.” He seemed grimly eager. Mirrim unstrapped, flung her leg over Path and nimbly stepped down the uneven ground to the frozen black soil.

“What was this?”  She asked.

Harlan was watching the ground as he walked on a diagonal from Path. “It was once an alpine meadow on the edge of Endyar holdings. We used to work the seams there for blackrock.” He gestured to the holes in the rocks in the northern face of the slope. “Telgar Weyr does not recognize it as part of their area and Igen will not protect it without Endyar tithing to them, The Lord Holder of Keroon will not accept us as Telgar’s Lord claims that Endyar has always been his; thus its threaded state.” He looked up to note that she was trailing him. “I suppose the machinations of Lord Holders and foreign Weyrleaders are of little interest to a Benden fighter.”

“Quite the contrary,” Mirrim replied as she stepped beside him. “Lady Balla touched on the same issue over klah this morning.  I had noticed other threaded areas.  We fly segments of the higher BendenRange that we do not fight in the winter.  Firstly because nobody lives there and secondly because thread freezes and dies when it touches snow. Thread is dangerous enough when we’re protecting life and property.”

They continued walking with their eyes to the ground.

“Harlan,” Mirrim asked when they reached the edge of the charred field. “What are we looking for?”

The man regarded the green rider for a few moments, doubt and yearning reflected in his expression. “I do not know,” He finally said. “This is the direction that Bolard came with Borek and Ardelot. They would have stayed their first night in one of the old caves but I never found any trace they got this far.”

“I don’t understand,” Mirrim said, looking carefully on Harlan’s face. “Lady Balla said that Bolard will be home in a sevenday.”

Harlan nodded grimly. Bolard left with the boys almost three turns ago right before winter set in.  He should have made Igen Hold in two sevenday.  The runners were found at an inn about two days from Igen Hold. My Lady Balla refused to acknowledge what I had determined that first spring.”  

“You think the Holder is dead, then, along with his heirs.”  

Harlan looked over her head back at the field. “Bolard may have been killed by renegades. We’ve been plagued with them in these mountain passes, especially since the scourge from the sky. He and the boys may have been captured and pressed into working any of the mines up north. Bolard may have gone another direction. May have simply taken his boys and walked away from his ancestral hold.”

“Bolard would abandon his kin?” Mirrim acceded. “Then he is very different from B’nard.”

“B’nard was always to Hold, then “Harlan paused, looking directly at Mirrim, “impression.”

She smiled despite herself. Harlan smiled back. “I’ve known the twins since we were boys. Back then, we talked of impressing a dragon or catching a fire lizard.  Not that none of us saw a real one of either. Pern is full of dragons and fire lizards now.  I suppose when B’nard left on that brown dragon we expected him back.  It were more than six months before we heard he impressed Mowalth. He appeared one day on blue Mowalth and sent the herds bolting up the valley. It was hard on the family.”

Mirrim clicked her tongue. “And I thought only me and Path caused consternation when we joined.” 

“But you were chosen to stand before the eggs.”

“No, I was in the tiers. Path came up to me. She left the men on the sands for me. Lessa and F’lar told me to go to her.  Nobody wants a hatching to be blighted by a dragonet suicide.”

“Then you came by three fire lizards!” Harlan continued, as he started walking the perimeter of the charred field.

“My fire lizards were different altogether. I impressed them long before Path. I lived in Southern at the time when F’nor called to Brekke to come with food as quickly as possible. She and I found as many folk as we could.  It was a nest hatching on the beachhead.  Wherries were already diving on them by the time we got there. I only impressed three because that was all the food I had brought.” Mirrim walked beside him.

Harlan stopped again with a chuckle. He shook his head, “Green rider, how did B’nard come by you? You mention famous riders and Weyrwomen like they was your kin.”

“They are, of sorts. I was fostered to Brekke and was in attendance when the dragons brought F’nor back from the red star. I was a journeyman healer at the time.” Mirrim had stopped walking, staring ahead with unfocused eyes for a moment until Path trilled.

Harlan wondered if he had upset her. “So all I need is food and a beachhead to get myself a fire lizard.”

Mirrim refocused and hurried to walk next to him. “Unless there’s at least one egg, the beachhead is of no use.”

Harlan looked toward the sun which was past its zenith. “Lady Mirrim,”

“Mirrim, call me Mirrim and I will call you Harlan if you wish.”

“I want to walk down that direction, Mirrim.” Harlan gestured south.  I will meet you back by your dragon.”

She watched him walk away then turn. She decided that he was relishing this rare opportunity to study this field and he wanted to do it privately. “ _Lady Balla is not a woman who I would think as delusional_.” Mirrim said to Path as she began walking back across the burned out field.  

Mirrim left Harlan to walk his grid pattern. At least twice he dug into the ground with his long knife. She chose to walk the area behind the outcrop where Path had perched.  She occasionally rumbled in discomfort. “ _This is old threadground,_ ” she remarked.

“ _Yes_ ,” Mirrim replied. “ _It was left unchecked.  Look at the size of this ring. I don’t recall ever seeing an outer coil so large. I doubt a drop of agenothree was ever used on it._ “

What would thread find to burrow through in a high alpine meadow? It is well above tree line. Mirrim kept the thought to herself.  Although she fought thread in the air and cleaned up whenever any burrowed into the ground, only among the trees of Lemos had she seen coil sizes like this one.  It had begun to disintegrate.  By another few turns, this field would recover, unless thread fell on it again.

Mirrim had been walking the circle when she noticed an anomalous bit of thread shell.  It was shaped in fist-size circles and loopy triangles, almost as if it had been wrought. She kicked at it with her boot. “ _Too frozen still,_ ” Mirrim thought to Path., _“I wonder how long ago this meadow was threaded? I suppose I could look in the map room when we return to Benden.”_

Path replied, “ _If I had seen the threads I would have seared them from the sky.  This place would be nice on a summer afternoon._ ”

Mirrim looked back at her dragon affectionately. Path was in profile with her tail and head up and only her back feet on the rocks. She suddenly looked to Mirrim, eyes spinning green. “ _Mowalth says we must return to the hold. We must appear together._ ”

Mirrim chuckled.  She walked back to Path and was not surprised in the least to see that Harlan was walking back to Path as well.

“B’nard wants us to return,” she called out. 

Harlan nodded his great head and raised his right arm. Mirrim pulled herself onto Path’s neck.

“Did you find anything interesting?” She asked as he stepped up to mount behind her.

“Nothing,” he replied with a brooding growl. “I’m strapped.”

Mirrim gave Path the command to rise and once they were sufficiently high, they went between.  When they appeared above the flat rock where Path and Mowalth had landed that morning, Harlan convulsively grabbed at her.

“A bit of warning, miss,” Harlan shuddered. “That was between?! It was so cold and so nothing. How do you stand for it?” 

Mirrim began to apologize but Mowalth soared over them from behind.

“ _Mowalth asks that we land together before the hold._ ” Path said as she began to follow.

No sooner had Mowalth landed than Bagira slid off and ran to the hold door.  Harlan, a bit white in the face, quickly followed behind her. Mowalth was in the air before Mirrim realized he was quickly rising.  She gave Path the same command.

Bagira looked behind her to see Harlan stumbling towards her. He was sweaty and pale.

“My stars, Harlan. You look ready to heave!  What happened?”

He licked his lips a few times then shuddered.  He whispered, “Between.”

Bagira put a comforting hand on her steward and patted his shoulder.  “I wasn’t keen on it my first time either.”

###

The late hour surprised Mirrim for a moment. She hadn’t had reason to be so far west on the northern continent since the cross-craft classes. The memory of her last lesson surfaced to sting her conscience and she shuddered. The day had been satisfyingly diverting until that recollection. She looked to the rider on Mowalth. He had been watching her. She raised her right arm in salute as Path curled toward their high weyr. Mowalth planed toward his; they had agreed before leaving for Endyar Hold that they would return to their respective weyrs.

As Path landed on the thin lip of their tiny weyr, Reppa, Tolly and Lok flitted into the cave. They chattered happily to be home after an active day. The children of Endyar Hold had been fascinated with the fire lizards and each had been amply fondled. “Stay out of my tub,” she commanded as she unlooped the straps to free Path.

“ _I do like my couch but I also like to snuggle Mowalth,_ ” Path said as she rolled into her stone bed. “ _Do we go to his weyr?_ ”

Mirrim paused by the pegs in her small room. She pulled the curtain back to her even smaller bathing chamber, enjoying the moist heat. “ _We fight thread over Bitra tomorrow. If the fall causes no injuries we will be free to stay with Mowalth and B’nard for the night._ ” Mirrim heard the pleased rumble from Path as she turned the glow to shed light on her metal tub. Taking a bucket to the pool she filled the half-full tub with the hot water until it was a tolerable temperature. As she leaned back she let her legs hang over the side so that her head and shoulders could be submerged. As she surfaced, she pushed her hair from her face and brought her feet back into the tub.

Bagira’s hair cascaded in deep wavy chestnut tresses. Her hair, when it had been long, had been similar, although a bit curlier. She thought she could grow her hair a bit longer, perhaps down to her shoulders. Still, short hair fit better under the close-fitting riding helmet. Perhaps Bagira could cut her hair to shoulder length. It may even curl a bit if she did. Mirrim wasn’t certain why she was thinking of how to make the two of them look the same. Bagira was at least 10 turns older. But they were the same height. So close in facial features, nobody would doubt a blood connection. Her daughters and baby son were sweet. The little boy looked so much like B’nard. He was so small for three turns. Then there was the presence of fighting men. And Lady Balla, her animosity toward her son’s dragon…

Mirrim sat up, splashing water onto the floor. The people of Endyar Hold acted as if they were under siege but why? She thought back to the Lady Balla’s uncomfortable interrogation then the sweepride that ended in a threaded field where Harlan was looking for evidence that Bolard and sons had passed that way, three turns ago. Why so many cryptic statements? Something didn’t fit. She settled back in her tub. B’nard expected something of her but what?


	22. Eastern Standards

Volkona stomped out of the mess hall slamming her fist against one of the stone supports as she exited. Miridath landed adjacent to the low building scattering tables and benches in the open-air section of the eating area. A few kitchen women uttered shrieks of dismay when the great golden dragon sprayed them with dirt as she took her rider to the sky.

Back at the main hearth, Talina tried to contain her smile but was caught by S’form who was the first to turn back to the long table. He glowered at her as he bent down to right the bench that Volkona had overturned in her fury to leave the meeting. She managed to school her features by the time K’lomar and Delianna turned around. But K’lomar was not fooled by his Weyrwoman’s supposed demeanor. He curled his papers calmly then exited quite sedately, compared to Volkona.

“One of these times,” S’form cautioned, “Volkona will simply smash in your teeth and not one of us will come to your aid.” He held Talina’s gaze until she looked away. He too, rolled his papers and exited.

Delianna sat opposite Talina. “Let’s finish this task now that you have successfully driven off your opponents.”

Talina smiled, “Then you do see things my way.”

“Absolutely not,” Delianna replied blandly, “I expect cooperation. Veena’s new fabric may or may not make money for Eastern. You may want to experiment with how her slug fabric fares when you are between but that’s your hide not our riders. We are in greater need of leather and we are running out of lumber crop to purchase more. We’ll have to start making it.”

“Our summer crop is due soon; we will have cash for the loom and more leather.” Talina had picked up her papers, shuffled them and put them back down.

“Weyrwoman, we intend that crop for our own larder,” Valta, Eastern’s Headwoman said defensively. “The fall crop is what we intend to send North, after we have stores to get us through to next summer. And, those marks will be used to purchase foodstuffs that we don’t have here at Eastern.”

Talina regarded the short woman with disdain, “The lands that look to this Weyr can supply all that we need for winter. We don’t really have winter here, not like the north.”

“We will have to purchase klah bark for several more turns before those groves across the river will produce a crop.” Valta replied. “We have no vintner so we will need to purchase wine,” she continued, ticking off items with her raised fingers. “Our warm weather means that meats don’t keep unless we consume or cure them and that takes herbs, spices and salts not found at Eastern.”

Talina held her hand in front of Valta’s face. “The Weyr is not in need of those foodstuffs that badly. We can take half the crop for cash; purchase the bigger loom and buy bulk leather for the riders.”

Valta heaved her ample chest gathering breath to contest Talina’s suggestion but Delianna calmly put her hand on her arm. “Weyrwoman Talina, you have already been told that the kitchen has a prior claim on the summer and fall crops.”

“Not to mention that neither’s even been harvested yet,” Valta added.

“Talina, the immediate problem is the lack of leather. If we don’t use our marks for purchasing more stock then we have to start making it.” Delianna interjected. 

The entire morning was being squandered in this useless argument.  As Weyrwoman, Talina held the official seal used for all Weyr purchases. Veena, the seamstress, had been the first to walk out of the meeting once she realized that her pet project was being used by the Weyrwoman to further her own agenda. Her brother was a tanner but he did not want to leave his established workshop at Igen Weyr when few concessions were being made about his proposed location for the Eastern tannery. Carten had returned to Igen a month ago.

The other three riders managed to stay until a few moments ago as Talina outlasted each one by her absurdly intractable argument for a bigger loom. Volkona had inferred that Talina’s craving for the loom was only for flouncier gowns and Talina had countered that the bigger loom would best be put to use to cover her considerable behind, thus the spectacular exit.

All argument from Talina begged the original question which was where to establish the tannery. Once Talina understood that her current budgeting and spending practices had put the new Weyr into the unpleasant position of making a choice between necessities; luxury had to be deferred, she held to the demand that a loom had to be part of any consideration.  Delianna understood this flaw in Talina’s character and had used it to the advantage of the Weyr in the past but now those plentiful funds had become less than sufficient.

“What about the ranches upriver? It’s time to remind them of tithes. They can tithe in leather.”

Delianna’s toes curled; she could feel her throat constricting. This was why Talina had driven off the men.  She couldn’t mention the time-honored system of weyr tithes until they were out of ear-shot. Weyrwoman or not, this dim-glow was not going to make her lose her temper. “Self-sufficiency means no tithing, Talina, and they’re herders. They don’t have the people or the skills.”

“Weyrwoman, a tannery needs to be downwind and downstream from living quarters.” Valta had stood which meant she was about to bolt too.  Odd, Delianna noted how she was the same height seated as standing.

Talina, once again picked up her papers and shuffled them. “Then they can tithes in marks and we purchase lea…”.

Delianna had suddenly launched herself across the table seizing the papers in a furious flourish. Talina looked stricken. As she flipped through the worn, empty pages she looked at her Weyrwoman, bewildered. “There’s nothing written on these sheets!” She flung a page down, “Nothing!” Another page was slammed against the table, “Nothing!” By the third page, Delianna began tearing it into as many pieces as she could while repeating, “Nothing, nothing NOTHING, not a word or a doodle. Talina, why would you treat us so?”

Tears were forming in the other woman’s eyes as she shook her head. “None of you believe in me and I know that Veena’s fabric made on a bigger loom will sell. None of you believe in me.”

Delianna gazed about the emptied hall. Valta was at the far end, shooing her workers out of the area. She sat back down and took a deep breath. “I agree with you, the longer the bolt, the higher the marks. But, my dear Weyrwoman, Eastern cannot afford it right now. Make this promise to me and I will make a promise to you.” Delianna straightened and held her arm across her chest in the deferential salute to a superior. “Let Carten establish the tannery over by the werylings’ quarters and I promise to help you establish a proper weavercraft hall with the biggest loom we can get at next Turns’ End on this side of the saddle.”

Delianna extended her arm across to Talina.

“You promise?”

“I promise on Namanth’s shell.” Delianna continued to hold her arm out.

Talina grasped the outreached arm.  With her other hand, Delianna grabbed the seal dangling from a chain around Talina’s neck. Deftly, she pressed it down on the blank page in front of Talina then let go.  Smoothing out the page, she picked up the stylus and began writing the agreement. “Sealed! Now I suggest you collect Veena and pop over to Igen to convince Carten to return.” She stood abruptly and began walking away. “I shall present this to the Weyrleader now.”

A golden dragon landed in the same spot as Miridath had only a short time before. Delianna and Namanth were more sedate in their launch to the sky. They landed neatly in front of T’gellan’s weyr. All the bronze riders stood when she entered.  She handed the paper to K’lomar then wordlessly exited, vaulting again to Namanth who effortlessly took to the sky.

“ _Where is Miridath’s rider, my love? Take me to her._ ” Delianna thought to her dragon. She figured that Volkona could not have gone far since she had not been wearing riding gear when she stormed off.

“ _We fly to the ancients’ landing._ ” Namanth replied. “ _She who rides Arwith hurt your mind._ ”

“ _Arwith’s rider hurt Miridath’s rider’s mind more. We must go to heal them._ ” Namanth pumped her wings to gain altitude. Delianna felt the change in pressure as her dragon attained the prevailing wind’s current that would glide them into Landing. She marveled at the amount of excavation since her last fly-over. The ancients were certainly orderly in the organization of their buildings and walkways. Namanth began her descent which flew over the complex. She executed a wide bank to land beyond the hills on the exposed grid where the old space ship and partially-crushed building had been excavated. Near the ship sat Miridath and on the stubby wing of the ship was Volkona, reclined against one of the opaque windows.

Once on the ground, Delianna dismounted.  She approached from under the wing. Seeing no other way she jumped, grabbing the edge of the wing.  She rocked herself a few times building the momentum to swing a leg onto the surface of the wing. Then she struggled to get the rest of her body up. Once atop the wing she walked over to the other queen rider and flopped down beside her.

“Impressive,” Volkona drawled. “I simply asked Miridath to sidle up to the wing and stepped off.”

Delianna pushed her golden curls back to scowl at her friend but both broke out in laughter instead.

“So?” Volkona asked expectantly.

“Immediate plans for a tannery by the weyrling barracks.”

“And the loom?”

“Turn’s end.”

Volkona shook her head, “She is approaching a level of unreasonableness to rival Madra in her last turn at Fort.”

“Forget her; I know a tavern outside of Crom that serves a distilled wine any time, day or night.” Delianna nudged Volkona.

“We are dressed like Southerners it’d take more than distilled wine to warm between out of us without gear.”

“Have no fear of black blackest, my dear weyrwoman,” Delianna said aloud. “ _Dearest, bespeak Galvath and ask her rider to collect both my and Miridath’s rider’s gear and bring them here. Let us venture to Crom and you and Miridath can wallow in the high snows.”_

“Who did you prevail upon?”

“Galvath,” Delianna replied as she settled against the defunct space ship.

“You ask Lopey to enter our weyrs?” Volkona tutted. “I would have asked Cana.”

“Either green rider would have complied but I know that Cana is working with the loggers today while Lopey is waking from her shift on third watch about now.” The other woman nodded.

They sat in relative silence atop the wing of the ancient flying machine letting the sun warm them.  A slight breeze wafted the scent of late spring flowers to them while it rustled the leaves of the low bushes. A few wild fire lizards appeared, flew by their bigger golden cousins chittering in apparent curiosity.

“What do you suppose it was like to fly in one of these … things?” Volkona asked giving the surface a rap with her knuckles.

“They flew straight up and people sat inside of them. The surprising thing to me is the three ships right over our heads. They are so far up there that our dragons can’t understand that they are there.” Delianna pointed straight up.

“I don’t think I would want to be in the air with no dragon under me.”

“Me neither.” Delianna shaded her eyes to gaze across the grid to the strange partially-collapsed building over the backs of both dragons.  She inhaled sharply, Miridath was markedly brighter than Namanth. So that was what really was getting to Volkona. In perhaps a sevenday, Miridath would rise for the second time since coming Forward. “Miridath is in good color.”

‘Aye, a turn too late,” Volkona replied morosely.

The fire lizard chatter stopped abruptly as they popped between.  Both queens looked skyward and huffed. Lopey on her green dragon, Galvath appeared high above them. They spiraled down then landed daintily before the greater golden queens. Galvath lowered her head as her rider simply stared at the ship. Eventually she slid off her dragon with two big rolls of gear.

“Thank you Lopey and thank you Galvath,” Volkona called out as she stood. She started walking toward the edge of the wing while Miridath sidled up to it. She stepped off onto the back of her dragon then stepped to the ground.

“Yes ma’am.” The girl replied.

Delianna bespoke Namanth, “ _Show that old golden pair that you can sidle up just as easily._ ”

“ _I will once that big rump moves aside,_ ” Namanth replied.

“ _My stars! Keep that thought to yourself, dear. They are rather sensitive today about such features._ ”

###

Talina had remained at the head table by the cold hearth of Eastern’s lone mess hall after everyone had left. She picked up the papers that Delianna had slammed into the table, putting the one page on top of the rest then smoothed them out. She had been so pleased with the first shipment of paper that she couldn’t bring herself to use any of them. It had been her first order as Weyrwoman. The men used paper regularly for their fighting lists and soon she’d have to order more or revert to hides. Delianna had wastefully torn up a page of the expensive commodity. She would have to find an opportunity to apprise T’gellan.

She was busy gathering the shreds when a sound attracted her attention to her left. “I know you’re there, Lania. Come out.” 

Lania stepped from behind the hearth.

“Pick up those pieces on the floor and bring them to me.”

Lania obediently stooped to pick them up but was hesitant to approach Talina. She approached the table from the opposite side. Talina slid the intact papers forward where she had already collected the pieces from the table. As Lania deposited her pieces from the floor, Talina grabbed her wrist and twisted the girl’s skin.

“Why aren’t you with Tallan” Talina demanded.

“He is six turns; he’s in the Harper’s class with the other children.” Lania knew better than to pull away once caught.

“You lazy, good for nothing, what brings you to the cooking hearth?”

“It is close to lunch, I help Valta during lunch.”

“How much did you hear?” She demanded pulling the girl closer.

“From Volkona’s big butt to now.”

Talina released the girl’s wrist which Lania rubbed absently. Pressing her delicate hand to her forehead Talina sighed. “I’m sorry I grabbed your arm.  I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You usually don’t.” Lania replied.

“You like Veena’s fabric don’t you?  How soft and strong it is, right?”

“It is very light and holds any dye.” She fingered the square patch in her pocket that Veena had given her.

“Then you know that I got us the loom by Turns’ End and that it is good for the Weyr.” Talina said while stretching her arms over her head. She was beginning to feel better about her morning’s work.  She had achieved her goal, somewhat. None of bronze or golden riders would say anything to T’gellan and Valta was dependent on her, The Weyrwoman, for her high position among the commoners.  She considered Lania a creature of her own mind and no longer cared what the girl had overheard. “What is being served for the noon meal?”

“I have yet to get to the kitchens but I suppose it will be the same as yesterday, meatrolls with tubers and whatever fruit the new greens picked this morning.”

Talina shuddered, “Hardly worth staying for.” She rose and turned toward the saddle, effectively dismissing Lania who was gone from the table as soon as Talina had looked away. She supposed she should find Veena then take her to Igen to discuss Carten’s move back to Eastern. She would go later so that her return would coincide with dinner.  T’gellan would be certain to know that she, The Weyrwoman, returned the petulant tanner to Eastern.

 

###

 

When the summer crop was harvested a month later, Talina declared that it was large enough to sell a third of it for the Weyr coffers. Valta’s patience snapped. She requested of S’form conveyance back to her home near High Reaches for her daughters, their husbands and children by the next sevenday, leaving her brown rider son to Eastern.

T’gellan requested an audience with Valta and her family, and tried to persuade them to reconsider. He was met with stony silence until Valta finally stated that the heat, bugs and fear of felines was too much for her family’s northern sensibilities. She was sorry but they wanted to go home. After they left he called in Talina, Delianna and Volkona. Talina assured him that she had already found a more competent Headwoman, a kinswoman of Umoal, Eastern’s newest queen rider.

Umoal’s family had hailed from the plains of Keroon. They had stayed at Eastern long enough to help build the mess hall, clear a stand of cash trees, and build the stone bridge across the river before they headed up said river to establish a ranch.  By that first Turns’ End they floated a shipment of dried meats, stiff leather hides and two spotted pelts of felines that Umoal’s brothers had killed. They seemed to be prospering until Umoal returned from one of her first flights upon Siloth carrying her mother, one sister, a niece and infant nephew.  They were all who had survived a feline attack. They had hidden in the loft of a two story outbuilding after kicking away the ladder and only means back to the ground. In all, only four out of a group of twenty-eight survived.

K’lomar dispatched his wing to Roonan’s Ranch as the clearing upriver had been called. His riders returned with what possessions were not destroyed or spoiled.  The remaining penned animals had to be released and given that four days since the tragedy had passed, they ended up putting the remains of twenty-four people in one of the wooden buildings and setting it afire.

Umoal’s mother, Maudda was grateful for any vocation even though she knew little about managing a hall required to feed roughly 300 people three meals on a daily basis. Umoal’s sister Darilda was traumatized and spoke little and contributed to her mother’s new position even less. The children, Mona and Norum, were immediately fostered to their father’s family back in Keroon. With all new kitchen workers and Talina selling more of their stores for marks, nobody was surprised that the quantity and quality of meals deteriorated.

Shortly after the departure of the competent Headwoman and decline in quality of meals, Volkona’s Miridath rose to intense competition from the bronzes. Keith and Monarth were the last two vying for Miridath when Monarth spun Miridath to drop with her then soar on an updraft to stay aloft for an unheard of length for dragon’s to mate. When Volkona appointed Delianna in lead and Umoal in secondary over Talina, the Weyrwoman’s fury was uncontainable.  T’gellan stepped in, inviting Talina to live in his weyr.  He could find no other way to give Volkona peace while her dragon incubated then brooded over her clutch. He refused to countermand the Golden Wingleader’s decision. Safety, competency and proficiency had to prevail over honorific rank.

One night, after a particularly difficult fall followed by a dull dinner in the hall, T’gellan sat alone in his room, spinning a little brown glob of glass between thumb and index finger. Ever since Miridath had risen and Monarth had caught her, Talina had become more cloying and demanding. Her perfume which he once thought pleasant, hung in his bedchamber. He had thought that once the eggs had hatched, Talina might relent from her barely-contained hostility toward the other two senior Weyrwomen, especially if he was seen in their company. He missed their counsel and friendship. Women were better adept at providing calming support, except for his Weyrwoman.

“ _How did the glassblower manage to put such a bemused expression on a tiny brown fire lizard? The man only saw Tolly once but in my hand is a Tolly in miniature._ ” He asked his great bronze dragon on the other side of his bedchamber wall.

“ _She comes down our path._ ” Monarth replied while shifting in his sandy couch.

He sighed. The scattered moments of solitude; showers, sleep, sweep-rides, were not enough to revive his mind. A solution must be had or he would not last as Eastern’s Weyrleader. T’gellan had just set the tiny figure into the little wooden box, a gift from Volkona at Turns’ End. It was lined with crumples of ripped up paper that Talina had given him while applying a tearful explanation that he couldn’t bother to remember.   She stepped lightly into his room. She eyed the box in his hand and her mood shifted perceptibly.

“Why didn’t you wait for me to join you in the dining hall?” Talina accused.

“There was nothing in tonight’s stew or bread that could entice me to linger.”

“It’s the heat what makes the bread so fusty, that’s what Umoal said.” Talina said mildly as she approached him. As she attempted to put her arms about his neck he stepped away.

He secured the box’s lid with a snap. Once he had put it on the high window sill he faced her again. “Why is a golden’s rider working in the kitchens?”

“Umoal wishes to help her mother,” Talina replied placidly. “Who am I to stop a queen’s rider?”

“I had a discussion not too long ago with Umoal.  Were you aware that she is ferrying kitchen helpers upriver to collect wild klah bark?” T’gellan turned to a scrolled up sheet of paper by his bed stand.

Talina’s brow furrowed.

“Umoal told me that the funds set aside for purchasing klah supplies and several meat-preserving herbs were revoked.” T’gellan was before her again. “As the Weyrwoman, you are aware.”

Her hand went unwillingly to her chest to feel the seal on its chain under her gown. “The summer crop…”

T’gellan closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’ve had a talk with Olney too.” Talina’s eyes began to well with tears.

“Enough Talina, don’t try a weep on me. I have been fully aware of your management of Weyr funds and while I expected you to take advice from your betters, you have disappointed not only me but the entire Weyr.”

Talina’s hands balled into fists, “Oh, so Volkona complained and now you expect to take the seal away from me.  I am The Weyrwoman, not her.

“Funny you should mention Volkona.” He approached her and held her shoulders between his hands. “Since Monarth flew Miridath, you have acted so petty towards her and yet she has behaved as cordial and deferential to your position as I would expect of a Golden’s rider. I do not need a report from her to know.”

Talina’s eyes flashed, “Delianna wouldn’t dare, she promised.” She whimpered as T’gellan’s hands pressed in on her shoulders.

“Nobody told me you silly wherrie. I do have the powers of observation and my stomach knows when it has been fed slop not worth a tunnel snake’s cache.” T’gellan gritted his teeth as he tried to control his need to shake her. Even as he squeezed her shoulders he realized how soft and delicate the Weyrwoman was. “I also know that if I am to continue to function as Weyrleader I need you to leave my weyr.”

“You can’t do that!” she gasped.

“I must. You’re responsibility to me is to provide a repose from my duties but you, your childish, petty, squabbling habits do everything but.” He abruptly let her go. “Umoal has moved to her mother’s quarters. I suggest that you move to her weyr.”

“So you can move Volkona in here?”

“I told you I need my peace. Why would I ask her to move in here when she is happily weyred with K’lomar?”

Talina was taken aback. “Then you want Delianna?”

“She’s weyred with H’rogan. Are you certain you are The Weyrwoman when you do not know where the principle queen riders sleep at night?”

Talina, riled at her Weyrleader’s statement, suddenly sprang upon him beating his bare chest with her fists. “Not her, not her. You promised not that aberrant green rider. Not in our Weyr; you promised.”

T’gellan grabbed her wrists which burned as she tried to pull away. “There are many women green riders these days. To which one do you refer?”

She stopped her struggle and faced him angrily. “You can have your choice of green rider, Weyrleader, but Mirrim’s latest was B’tarth and from what I was told, they intend to be weyred together.” She suddenly smiled slyly, “Looks like Path can perform a Keth Catch too.”

“Then, my dear Weyrwoman, why would you think that Mirrim and Path would leave their home for Eastern?” He let her hands go. “For once understand me. I want you out of my weyr because I cannot stand your presence and I need time away from you. I will have peace in my own weyr.  You will leave now. I will move your press to the conference room now and my peace and respite begins tonight. He had turned her by her shoulders and shoved her through the curtain. “Move into Umoal’s weyr. It is roomy with a good sea breeze and the windows are high enough that the morning sun won’t wake you.

Talina was down the path toward Umoal’s weyr before she understood the implications of T’gellan’s intimate knowledge it.  She was glad for the low stone wall along the gravel path because she was hidden from view as she stamped her foot in anger. Once she managed to control her temper she grimly smiled. Her old cave was the perfect weyr. Located on the saddle, it was the center of all activity between Weyr and Hold, which was how she thought of the river side of the Weyr.

A short talk with Wendel to move his smelly medical supplies and another talk with Mauda to remove the foodstuffs and her sanctuary would be secure. She would move Tallan back in with her and start grooming him for leadership. Lania could perform as an adequate maid and Tallan adored her. F’nton and S’form were too much T’gellan’s pawns. Talina sighed. P’wer had his good points and Boranth was a young dragon. Perhaps he could catch Arwith the next time she rose. Then T’gellan could have all the peace from leadership he wanted.

“ _My place is by Monarth,_ ” a sleepy Arwith replied.

Even after Talina had re-secured her original weyr, Arwith remained in her adjoining sandy wallow next to Monarth. The people of Eastern actually preferred the change.


	23. Fire Lizards Are Complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the title for this chapter is a nod to Lessa's latest "Unexpected developments"

The morning was cool with not even a whisper of a breeze. The fog along the coast around the dragon stones clung to the surface of the gentle waves.  It hung on the land and obscured the jagged heads of the towering rocks.  The lone green dragon hovered above the spires hoping to light on a flat one but all that was visible were needle-like and perpendicular. She and her rider floated out to the sea then turned about in time to see their favorite perch poke through the mists. In moments they had landed only to be enveloped in the thickness.  For the next hour the two sat in silence, each to her own thoughts.

Eventually the sun burned the fog down to the gently undulating water.  Three sailing vessels, their multi-hued canvas revealing that their home was Half-Circle Seahold were aft of the Dragon Stones, almost ambling.  Their luffing sails alerting the pair on the rock to their presence.  By the time the breeze filled their sails the three vessels were almost to the harbor inside the half volcano.

Path lifted her neck and swiveled her head toward shore where two greens and one brown fire lizard were circling.  They chittered excitedly then raced toward the pair. As they circled their heads, projecting images of the sand along the shore, the rider said aloud, “A nest you say! Let’s take a closer look, Path.”

The dragon lifted gracefully in the light wind then veered toward the cliff with a deep hole about three quarters of the way up. They landed above the beach and all eyes looked at the mound in the sand.

Path raised her head and looked north, “Mowalth comes.”

Mirrim faced the sun, measuring its distance from the eastern horizon. “ _I expected them to give us a little more time._ ”

Mowalth and B’nard popped from between further out, by the end of the Dragon Stones. They circled the end then flew toward the shore once the green and her rider were spotted.  They flew behind so that they could circle around and land facing the same direction.

“A fine morning to you,” B’nard shouted, the false cheerfulness apparent. He had been annoyed that Mirrim had quickly grabbed a role and exited the dining hall before he had even sat to breakfast. With the rest of his wing watching his reaction, he forced himself to relax and enjoy his klah and porridge. He had expected her to wait for him. Instead he had to search for her.

Mirrim answered calmly, “I’ve learned not to linger on restday. Had we stayed, Path and I would have been put to some conveyance task.”

“Oh,” B’nard responded in a more subdued voice. “You had agreed to accompany me to Endyar Hold and I had expected you to wait.“

“Mowalth knew where we were.  He did bring you directly to the Dragon Stones.”

B’nard slumped a bit, feeling a bit less irritated. Mirrim and Path had moved to their weyr only four days before.  His plan was progressing far better than he expected but Mirrim was a trial.  Her demeanor merely feigned submission. He sucked a bit of air through the gap in his front teeth, “Shall we fly now?” He commanded more than requested.

“We will presently,” Mirrim said quietly, staring down at the beach. “I want to talk a bit first.”

B’nard was in the process of buckling down his helmet when he turned back to her. “ _Contrary woman!_ ” He grumbled to Mowlath then said aloud, “What about?”

“Do you intend to leave me alone with your mother again?”

B’nard gave a mirthless chuckle. Were it not for Bagira and the children, B’nard would only appear at his boyhood home around Turns’ End. “I have little control over my mother. She runs the hold and expects compliance.”

“Bolard is not the Master of Endyar Hold?”

“Bagira is the master, erm, mistress in Bolard’s absence.”

Mirrim was silent for a moment, nodding her head.  B’nard was about to speak when she asked, “When was the last time you saw your brother Bolard?”

B’nard answered quickly, “The first Turns’ End after my father died.” It had not been a pleasant visit. Bolard, new to his position, had told B’nard to keep away from Endyar Hold. B’nard had never considered that Bolard had been angry for the turn of events that made him an heir and husband and B’nard a dragonrider. He may have grown to the responsibility of Holder but Bolard never quite forgave his brother.

“That was six turns back,” Mirrim replied blandly.

He grunted an assent. He was still thinking about the last time he and Bolard spoke. They had been close once.

“How did your father die?”

B’nard jerked his head up and scowled at her. Mirrim was watching him intently, waiting. He looked out to the sea then sighed. He wanted results and Mirrim’s powers of observation was only one of her many talents that attracted him.  “You saw that tumble of rock by the hold? There was a substantial beasthold under that slide. Arden and five of our runners, including the prize stud, are under it.”

“That was a rockslide, not a cave in, you say.”

“That’s what Balla said.”

“Was the beasthold in the open or within the cliff?”

“It was within the cliff. In fact we were able to get the rest of the runners and all of the herdbeasts out through the main hold entrance. So much of that part of the hold had to be abandoned because there’ve been several cave-ins since.” B’nard’s face contorted with the memory.

“B’nard, I have flown over many rockslides. Even with clearing some of that mess of rocks, it is not natural. What did it?”

“I don’t know.” B’nard said after heaving a sigh. “Balla, Bagira, even Harlan have their different beliefs. We have no proof.”

“Do you think somebody attacked Endyar Hold?”

He shrugged.

“Your brother succeeded your father after the rockslide and now he has been missing along with his heirs for almost three turns.”

“Did Harlan tell you this?”

“I was able to glean more from Balla than Harlan. She’s angry and she’s troubled. Did you recruit me because I look like Bagira?”

B’nard looked out to the sea again, “Lady Balla fears nothing and we need Path too.”

Mirrim shook her head. “You do realize that flying our dragons in sweeps of your family’s land is an obvious violation of Weyr Laws. Not to mention ineffectual. If somebody is attacking Endyar Hold he’s smart enough to recognize that the sweeps are only on restdays. He was smart enough to know how to blow apart half the cliff.”

“I’ve flown sweeps through the sevenday when my duties allow it. Besides, in the last three turns, I have never seen an Igen or Telgar dragon sweeping my home.”

“That land needs to be worked. That is a better use of those people’s time than guard work or holed up in their holds,” she retorted. “We need to improve their security. Make it better than men-at-arms and a sweepride or two.”

“Like what?”

“Look down at that beach, what do you see.” Mirrim gestured.

The three fire lizards took wing to swoop down to the mound of sand. Lok crooned and looked up at her mistress with blue swirling eyes.  B’nard noticed. “Why is the sand moving?”

Mirrim smiled as her three fire lizards crooned in unison. “There’s a fire lizard nest under it. They are a few hours from hatching too.”

B’nard didn’t think much of fire lizards and couldn’t fathom their usefulness. He was still getting used to their presence in his weyr. “I don’t see how pets that have to be fed and care for could be any use to Endyar’s people.”

“Properly trained, they are better guards than watchwhers.” Mirrim stated in a didactic voice. “They are able to carry messages to anywhere from anywhere in Endyar and to Benden too. And, if your mother impressed one perhaps she’d quit thinking you could give Mowalth away and return to Endyar as its rightful Holder.”

B’nard snorted. Mirrim pulled her backpack off then rummaged through one of the side pockets. She withdrew a leather pouch. “Reppa,” she commanded.  The larger green fire lizard flew to the back ridge on Path’s neck.  She dutifully held out her back leg.  Mirrim was writing a note on a strip of scraped leather.  She quickly secured it to the fire lizard’s leg. “Go to the heavy one in Endyar, Reppa.  The front one, the heavy one. Harlan!”

Reppa chirped, flapped her wings to rise then popped between.

“You sent her to Harlan?  I doubt that she will find him. Even more, I doubt he is awake yet.” B’nard chuckled.  “The heavy one?!”

Mirrim chuckled too, “That’s how Path refers to Harlan. Both Path and I gave her images.  That works the best.  Do you want a fire lizard too?”

“I have Mowlath,” he replied flatly. “What did you put in the note to Harlan?’

“I asked for the warmest hearth and freshest meat at Endyar for a dozen fire lizard eggs.”

With a dubious grumble, B’nard shook his head. “I say leave that nest to the wild and let’s get to Endyar.”

“We will wait,” Mirrim stated insistently. “I know Harlan would appreciate a gift of a fire lizard egg and so would Bagira.”

“Bagira has enough troubles with a missing husband and sons.”

“I guess you will simply have to trust me, B’nard. These dragons in miniature soften the hardest hearts and ease the weariest minds. It was Berd who brought Brekke back after,” Mirrim shuddered a pause. B’nard and the dragons stiffened too. Turns later, any reminder of the queens’ death still struck pain in dragonfolk. “Anyway,” Mirrim continued briskly. “I now know that your obsession with me and Path wasn’t simply to mate a woman on a green.”

B’nard barked a laugh while Mowalth crooned. “Ah, but the chase…”

“Your people’s behavior is as baffling to you as it is to me. You want my help and you risked showing another rider that you’ve broken Weyr Law. Repeatedly. You’ve trusted me with that. Now, trust me on this.” She waved her arm over the beach.

Reppa popped before B’nard and landed on Mowalth holding out her leg.

“Shells and Shards!,” he exclaimed in surprise. He quickly unrolled the note. “It’s Bagira’s writing.”

“What’d she say?” Mirrim asked with a slight smile.

“Kitchen”

“ _Path, please take me down to the beach,_ ” Mirrim asked her dragon then said aloud. “I can hold maybe six inside my jacket. You could probably carry eight.”

B’nard looked up from the note “Right now?” He absently tucked the note inside his glove as he commanded Mowalth to take them to the beach.

Path had moved out of Mowalth’s way since Mirrim had dismounted and was crouched by the mound of sand. “Of course right now, by next restday they’ll be hatched.” Mirrim replied as B’nard kneeled beside her. “Here,” she said as she lifted the first egg to B’nard.  “Put it above your belt inside your shirt next to your skin. She slid two more to his back and another beside the first before she fit four more between his shirt and wherhide jacket then she began placing six inside her shirt. They shuffled carefully to their dragons and rose on the late morning sun in the east to dawn in Endyar.

Both Dragons bugled as they appeared from between.  They landed lightly in front of the main door.  Harlan opened it, sending six men out to surround the dragons. When he saw how cautiously the riders stepped down he approached Mirrim to help.

“Careful with me, Harlan. I have your fire lizard egg under my jacket.” Mirrim declared. The grin on his face made B’nard laugh.

“Get us quickly to the kitchen hearth. They need warmth after between.” B’nard added.

Harlan grimaced. He looked to the men, “Anything?”

The men were looking to the heights and along the walls. Mirrim commanded her three fire lizards above the heights.  Reppa and Tolly shrieked. “Tolly sees a tethered runner and Reppa says there is a man running to it.”

The men reacted with alarm as they hunkered down. Harlan was quick to push the riders to get inside.

“Nonsense,” Mirrim interjected.  “B’nard, take Mowalth and pick up that man.”

“That’s real interference, Mirrim,” he replied. “Besides, what am I to do with these eggs in my shirt?”

“We are too far in to think of Weyr Law, B’nard,” she retorted.  “Harlan, does that man belong on the heights of your hold.”

“No rider.”

“Does the runner belong on your heights?”

“Most definitely not.”

“We need fresh meat for fourteen fire lizards,” she continued. “We can deprive the intruder of his mount.  Fresh meat is best for new fire lizards.’

B’nard interjected.  “I’ll get that runner. Harlan, Fordez, Gerok, come take these eggs to the kitchen. Palarimy, you’re dressed for riding.  Come with me.”

The three men gingerly took B’nard’s eggs as the young man wearing the thick wool coat stepped up tentatively to the big blue dragon.  Mowalth kept looking to the heights.  “ _The little ones only see one man. They are keeping him under an outcrop._ ”

As the green rider followed the men into the hold, the blue rider vaulted to his dragon, relieved to have had the decision to act made for him. “Hang on to my jacket Palarimy”. The young man grabbed anxiously to B’nard’s jacket belt. Mowalth’s lift pressing them into his hide was a new sensation.  Long he had imagined being on B’nard’s dragon.  He was trying his best to keep from screaming in terror.  When he opened his eyes he was treated to an unusual view of the heights. They zoomed under him then came up quickly to an outcrop from which he had often stood guard. There was a man wearing shepherd’s clothing cowering under the rock.

Palarimy jumped off Mowalth with B’nard following quickly behind him.

“Out from that crevice, you damn spy or I’ll have this dragon make it your tomb.” Palarimy cried menacingly.  His sword was drawn and his other hand held a length of chain.

“ _I would not push rock on the man._ ”  Mowalth complained but he growled at the same time showing his front incisors. He looked curiously at the man wedged between the rocks.

“Don’t crush me,” the man pleaded. “I will come out, just make the dragon back up.”

“Come out now, and I will ask him not to eat you,” B’nard ventured.

Mowalth howled as he backed up, ” _I do not eat manflesh!_ ”

The effect was enough for the man to hesitate partway out. Palarimy quickly wrapped the chains around the man’s wrists then dragged him the rest of the way out. “Hold that taut,” he commanded to B’nard.  Palarimy slipped his sword down the back of the man’s neck which cut away the man’s rough coat and well-made woolen shirt. He continued to slice off the man’s trousers then pull his boots off.  In a short span of time the man was naked save for his sleeves. Palarimy put his blade to the man’s neck after B’nard yanked the chains to make him rise.

“Speak your name, spy.”

The man stayed mum, breathing heavily. Palarimy pressed the blade into the man’s throat. Mowalth snaked his head forward, curious to watch. The man screamed, “I am Orehan, Don’t let him eat me.”

Both B’nard and Mowalth snorted.

Palarimy let the pressure off. “Who is with you?”

Orehan fell to his knees. “I am alone.”

With the hilt of his sword, Palarimy punched the man on the side of his head. As he crumpled over, Palarimy said to B’nard, “I suppose we should get this man into the hold.” He unwrapped the chains from the man’s wrists pulling the sleeves off.  He bundled the clothing and thrust them into B’nard’s arms. “Harlan will want to go through these.”

B’nard carried them over to Mowalth and rolled them into the net behind the conveyance strap. When he turned back, Palarimy was dragging Orehan by his feet toward the dragon. B’nard grabbed a leg and pulled too. Reppa, Lok and Tolly hovered overhead.  Into B’nard’s mind came the image of a runner tethered beyond the outcrop. “The runner! We need the meat.”

Palarimy turned to B’nard with a slight smile. “I’d say give it to your worthy dragon for his first-rate method of questioning.”

“Just run up around this outcrop, he’s tethered.  Slit his throat then Mowalth will carry the carcass down.  I’ll secure the spy. Tolly go with this man.” B’nard looked at the brown fire lizard that made a trill then flew over Palarimy head.” The man nodded then trotted out of view with the fire lizard overhead. B’nard shook his head. He was rather surprised that the little brown listened to him.  “So, Reppa, go to Mirrim and report our capture, or are you Lok?” He looked to the large green fire lizard that immediately hissed and popped between. He quickly bent to the task of tying the naked man to Mowalth’s back.

“ _What will the holder family do to the man?_ ” Mowalth asked.

“ _I am not certain,_ ” B’nard replied as he settled behind Mowalth’s neck and buckled himself to the straps. “ _Palarimy was too adept in handling this man for him to be the first one. Hop over this rock and let’s pick up fresh fire lizard food._ ”

###

By the time Reppa popped into the long corridor that functioned as Endyar’s superior kitchen, Mirrim had already arranged the fourteen eggs along the curb before the four ovens. Some of them moved of their own volition.  Endicara and Iricara were tasked with keeping them from falling. Both girls were dubious that they were soon to hold their very own fire lizard as was their mother.

“We’ve asked for fire lizard eggs for turns,” Bagira said. “What will Telgar say when he finds us with them?”

“Lord Larad?” Mirrim replied dismissively. “He has his allotment, I have mine.  I feel badly to leave more than half on that beach but they were too close to hatching. We could only carry these safely.”

Reppa alighted on Mirrim’s shoulder chittering. “B’nard reports that they have caught the man and are bringing the carcass to the hold door.”

Harlan spun around, “Already? The man is dead? Oh the runner is the carcass!”

Bagira grabbed her hooks and knives. “Bring those bowls, Fordez and follow me. Mirrim, how much time do we have.”

Mirrim slid her hand over the nearest egg then looked up to Lok who was clinging to glow basket affixed to the ceiling, eyes slowly pulsing powdery blue. “Maybe an hour?”  Reppa gave an affirming chirp. Bagira, Fordez and Harlan exited carrying the means to butcher the runner. Mirrim felt a tug on her pant leg.

“Will I get one too, green rider Mirrim?” Iricara’s incredulous, imploring face looked so familiar. Endicara looked up to Mirrim with the same expression as her sister then quickly back to the curb where one egg wobbled.

“I expect enough eggs to go around. What I really wonder is whether we can get any of the outlying farmers to the Hold in time.” Mirrim wasn’t aware of how similar her reassuring smile matched the two girls’ mother.  As the time progressed, Fordez returned with bowls of meat three times.  Mirrim stated that one more bowl should be sufficient.  It was more important to get the people assembled before shells started cracking.

Bagira brought the last bowl. She stripped off the large apron and a pair of bloody gloves then tossed the lot into a deep sink by the archway and began washing the implements. “That was quick work!” Mirrim exclaimed.

“It was a small mountain runner, looked used up too. Your brown fire lizard is cleaning up the offal.” Bagira turned to Mirrim and smiled.

“Who do you have in mind for the other eight eggs?” Mirrim asked.

Bagira stared at her blankly. “I hadn’t thought that far, yet.”

B’nard sauntered into the kitchen with more of Bagira’s butchering implements. “Who are your most trusted farmers?” Mirrim asked him.

“Oh, I need to collect them, don’t I?” He turned to Bagira, “Who do you need most to be in contact with?”

Harlan walked into the kitchen with Fordez and Gerok. ”How many of the guards can have one?” he asked Bagira then B’nard but both of them looked to Mirrim. She clucked her tongue. “Bagira, the girls, Harlan, your two men there... Get the outlying farmers in now. B’nard, are you sure you don’t want one too?”

Everyone looked at B’nard, including the fire lizards. “These are for Endyar, Mirrim,” he remarked as he pointed to the eggs on the curb. “Bagira, get your riding gear, we have farmers to collect.” He marched out the arch at the end of the hall. Bagira gave Harlan one petitioning glance as she ran from the kitchen.

Iricara looked up at Harlan whose gaze was caught by a rocking egg. “We both get a fire lizard, Harlan!”

###

B’nard and Bagira slipped between quickly to bring Cursto and Fai, the wife of the farmer above the trade road that linked Igen to Fort. Beck, the son of another farmer and Jenola the daughter of Fordez, who worked their farm with the rest of his children managed to skid into the kitchen, breathless and skeptical. Reppa, Lok and Tolly began humming. B’nard went alone to collect Tredaren, the farmer at the southwestern edge of Endyar’s land who walked into Endyar’s kitchen as the first egg cracked in front of Palarimy. A wet brown landed on his back, as he righted himself, he creeled piteously.

“Feed him! Feed him!” Iricara cried while Mirrim shoved a chunk of meat into his hand and moved it to the little beast.

“He’s so hungry!” Palarimy said in total awe of the little creature, not daring to look away. Mirrim lifted the brown fire lizard into Palarimy’s hand as she added another glob of meat to his other.  Then, she pulled him back to the counter where the fourth bowl of meat scraps was set.  “Keep feeding him until he is full and goes to sleep.” She advised as she moved away to assist the next hatchling and bumbling human.

Within the next minute, Endicara held a small blue while Beck and Jenorla each held a green.  B’nard assisted Bagira with her new fire lizard; a bronze creeling loudly. Fordez moved back to the bowl by Palarimy with his new blue.

“What is that horrendous noise?!” Balla demanded from the archway.  “What on Pern are you people doing?” With the exception of the cacophony emitting from half of the hatchlings, the humans gaped silently at Lady Balla as she limped commandingly into the kitchen, disgust shooting from her eyes. Mirrim grabbed the egg in Harlan’s hands. She walked directly toward the old lady and practically tossed her the egg.  Unconsciously, Balla held out her hands as the egg fell into them.  It cracked in several pieces. A tiny brown head attached to a wet body screamed at her.

“Take this piece of meat and feed him,” Mirrim commanded as she placed the meat between her fingers.  Balla was quick to pop it into the screaming browns maw. “Oh” she exclaimed, “Oh, more meat. We need more meat here!“ She paid no mind to who handed her the gobbets.  She was consumed by the small creature. She cradled him in the crook of her arm, rocking gently.  Each time the little brown opened his mouth, she dropped a piece of meat in.

Iricara shrieked with delight when the egg she had been watching cracked. The little green head didn’t have a moment to broadcast her hunger.  The girl wasn’t about to let her fire lizard cry. Beside her Cursto fed a little brown and another guard fed his new green.

By the time Fai held a bronze and Tredaren marveled at another green that looked to him with famished red eyes, Harlan, on his knees, bent before the last egg. The anticipation on his face was fading to despair when the egg shook mightily. It cracked in three neat pieces; the smallest was a cap on a creeling golden’s head. “Ah my beauty, there you be,” Harlan crooned in a voice so gentle that most of the humans chuckled to witness the big man speak so lovingly.

B’nard was still next to Bagira as she tried to tempt her lethargic bronze to take another piece of meat. The fire lizard hiccupped then snuggled against her bodice and settled to sleep. “B’nard?” She turned to find his head close to her. “You said that Mowalth told you his name when you impressed. But this little love did nothing but project his hunger and then his need to rest. Doesn’t he have a name?

“You name him, Bagira. He is yours to name,” He replied while nudging her. When she turned her radiant smile to him, he caught his breath.

“They don’t have the mind of a dragon but still, it’s profound how they put their feelings into your head,” Mirrim interjected. Reppa was upon her shoulder crooning and Tolly was on her other, rubbing his head against her cheek.  She held Lok. “You must keep them close to you and be prepared to feed them.  They will fledge by the time they wake.”

“Rider Mirrim, can I name my green after Path or is that not done?” Iricara asked.

“Path is a fine name but you may want to give your little green her own name.  If you have to ask her to find my Path she may become confused.” Mirrim replied.

“Pati, then,” Iricara stated as she caressed the tiny wedge-shaped head.  “You are my little green Pati.”

The farm folk and guards became interested. Palarimy was the first to speak. “Rider, how do you make them send notes and follow commands?”

“Practice, patience and more practice,” Mirrim answered.

“It will be well worth the work,” Palarimy replied, “after watching your brown fire lizard work with Mowalth and B’nard. That was the quickest apprehension we ever had.”

“Another spy, where?”  Balla’s easy mood evaporated.

“My Lady,” Harlan interceded. “When the riders arrived this morning, there was a man with a runner on the cliff heights. Palarimy and B’nard captured him on Mowalth.”

“Where is he now?” The old woman demanded.

“In the inner cell,” Palarimy replied.

“He shall keep there for now,” Bagira said briskly as she loosened her bodice to tuck her small bronze inside her blouse and donned an apron.  “Girls, secure your fire lizards, wash your hands then help me with breakfast. The rest of you shall leave my kitchen.”

“I am rather adept in the kitchens of Benden,” Mirrim remarked.  “May I stay and help?”

“That would please me,” Bagira replied.

The rest of the people of Endyar exited. As Balla passed the green rider she paused, “I had no intention of ever falling in love again, Mirrim of Benden. Those warning about green riders proved true. You have been most disruptive.”  The old woman had trouble keeping the smile from lips.

Mirrim inclined her head as the old woman limped by her.

“I haven’t seen Grandmama this happy since before we lost Grandfa,” Iricara whispered to her sister.

“Hush, Iricara,” Bagira warned. “Move your little green to inside your tunic then bring the porridge to the fore and give it a good stir.”

Endicara had already moved her tiny blue fire lizard under her shirt and was tying her apron. “Mama, do you want me to cut fruit or prepare the table?” she asked as she walked to the larder.

“Get the fruit for Mirrim to cut up. You know where the plates and cutlery are. The settings do not have to be formal.” Bagira replied as she added klah bark to the big pot suspended from a hook over a low fire. She dusted off her hands then used her skirts to pull down the oven door and remove a pan with several large loaves of bread.

“Ah, good, not burnt.” She breathed in the scent. When she turned, she returned Mirrim’s gaze with a smile. “I was putting these in when Harlan came with your note.”

“Things happened quickly,” Mirrim said with a wink.  She accepted two big hard-rind yellow fruits from Endicara.  She chose a thin, long knife from the block then attacked the skin of the first one, whittling away until only the fruit remained.  Then she cut it in half and scooped out the innards. “Do you want these sliced or cubed?” She looked up at Bagira who was cutting up a wedge of cheese.

“Slices,” she said without looking up, “and that one will do.  We have extra people but I doubt they will eat what you have already prepared.”

“Yes, Bagira,” Mirrim said subserviently. “Although leftover yellowfruit mashed up makes a very good emulsifier in creamed soups or jams.”

Bagira brightened. “Yes, that’s true. It’ll thicken the runniest spreads. If you dry the rinds then powder them, you have a wonderful aromatic.”

“That must be why Manora keeps them. I’ve not tried that.”

Bagira turned fully to face Mirrim with an easy smile, “I would not have thought a rider would know her way about a kitchen.”

“Mirrim returned the smile, “I wasn’t always Path’s rider. It didn’t matter which weyr I lived at, it seemed I worked in the kitchens almost daily. On some occasions I still do.”

“I guess I knew that riders had to eat.  I mean we tithe food and supplies but somebody had to prepare meals.” Bagira laughed at herself.  “I suppose I never thought of whom besides riders and dragons lived in a weyr. B’nard never’d,” she paused. “Iricara, you’ve stirred that enough. Help Endicara in the dining hall. Endicara! Stop dawdling and get up to the hall. We’re moments away from pass-through.”

Iricara stepped behind a slide on the back wall and began climbing while Endicara opened a door to a dumb waiter.  She had already placed plates, mugs, cutlery and bowls on it.  As it began to move out of site, she followed her sister up the tube.

Mirrim had moved over to look up both. “Interesting. Vertical Pass-throughs. We have something like these in the Weyrleaders’ weyrs but they are an incline, not a true vertical. T’gellan’s weyr actually had a false wall so the workmen can easily maintain it. It would stop working on occasion so we’d simply go to the hall for breakfast.  F’nor’s was a very steep and usually had to be serviced from the kitchens.  All our other pass-throughs are from the kitchen to the dining hall.“

“Oh, I do like the kitchen here; I can feed almost five hundred and I have.” Bagira said proudly.  In my birth hold, we had a big square for a kitchen and the water source was only in the corner. It was a walk to the stove then a walk to the larder then another walk to the ovens. It was quite a walk to the dining hall too. This is my favorite room at Endyar.”

“Plus its heat rises to the main hall,” Mirrim added. “I see where the ends of this room also channel the bulk of the heat away when you have all the ovens on. I’d wager that your sleeping quarters are on either end above these doors.” She had her arms spread apart, fingers pointing to each end of kitchen.

Bagira looked to one end then the other and nodded her head.  “I had never thought of it before but yes, the floor vents in my room are directly above the door at that end.” She pointed to the far end. With a sigh, she picked up the tray where she had assembled cut up bread and cheese.  She stepped next to where Mirrim stood to slide open the door. Mirrim picked up a wooden bowl and filled it with the slices of fruit.  Bagira turned to ask for it but Mirrim already placed it in her reaching hand. This was set next to the bread.  She rapped her knuckled on the roof of the dumbwaiter and it ascended.

“Could you bring over that kettle of klah by the hearth, please Mirrim?”  Mirrim picked up a leather pad and carried the heavy kettle to the pass-through, lifting it easily to the counter. Bagira had a large ceramic bowl.  She was dumping the contents of the pot Iricara had been stirring into it.  The dumb waiter returned with a slight shudder.  Mirrim opened the door and placed the kettle and bowl inside then mimicked Bagira’s rapping.

“You do know your way around a kitchen, Mirrim.” Bagira was removing her apron then checking the little bronze in her blouse. “My little bronze is so sleepy.”

“He will grow quickly.  You will need to have food on hand for at least two sevenday because they will eat four times a day for as long.  They will grow out of their skin too. Do you have any oils on hand?”  Mirrim was washing the implements they had used as she spoke.

“I guess that runner won’t last long. As for oils, will rendered fat do?” Bagira stepped up to the sink beside Mirrim to give her washings a good rinse then placed them in the drying rack. As she dried her hands she looked upon Mirrim’s profile with concentration. Mirrim’s forehead was furrowed and her lips pursed.  Her hair was pulled back with a leather band but her hair hung short, a bit past her ears.

Mirrim turned to Bagira, “rendered fat will do.” She paused, “Are you alright, Bagira?”

“I am truly glad that B’nard has you, Mirrim of Benden. I was prepared to dislike you but you have given our family the first hope we have had in turns. Thank you.” Bagira curtsied. “We should go up to the dining hall.” Bagira turned abruptly and Mirrim followed, a bit perplexed.

“Curious,” she said under her breath.

###

It was not much of a rest day. The prisoner’s head had to be tended then he was put, still naked, in a cell deep inside the hold. His face was not familiar and his clothing and possessions revealed nothing except that he was well provisioned. When B’nard asked what they would do with the man, Harlan had answered that they may ask him some questions in a sevenday or two.

The new fire lizards woke creeling in hunger around noon.  The only person who was not frantic to feed a screaming baby was Balla who had demanded a supply of meat in time for the tiny creature to wake. Mirrim and B’nard conveyed the farmers back to their homes as the sun began sliding to the west.  After a quick sweep of the range above Endyar, they returned to Benden’s evening.

They sat apart, with their respective wings for the leisurely dinner but Mirrim left shortly after the weyr harper began playing a dance tune.  B’nard followed soon after. As Mowalth crept over to a sleeping Path, B’nard walked through his room to the bathing pool, not at all surprised to find Mirrim soaping her hair.

“Do you wish your solitude, Mirrim or may I join you, I’d like to soak before I retire.”

“I plan to soak a bit too but I don’t mind your company, B’nard.”  Mirrim dunked under, the suds boiled up from where she sunk then lazily floated toward the drainage.  She remerged by the steps where she sat and leaned back. The warm water lapped around her neck.

B’nard stripped his clothing then lowered himself on his steps. In the ensuing silence, he mused about the day’s events. He was troubled about the man they had detained and feared that his people would kill him. How had they all become so deliberately hard and calculating? B’nard heaved a sigh and opened his eyes. Mirrim had been watching him and she began to grin.

He grinned too then thought about Bagira’s radiant smile when she impressed the bronze fire lizard. She had named him Orlo. “I was just thinking about my people’s reaction to the fire lizards.”

“So was I,” Mirrim replied.  Balla’s Bryn did much to thaw her bearing.”

B’nard laughed aloud. “I fear I had forgotten how handsome my ma’am is when she smiles. The girls are tickled with their fire lizards too.  I do hope those creatures become the allies you promise.” B’nard chuckled again. “Poor Barno, he was most upset that we didn’t save an egg for him.”

“Oh the boy will have his own egg in three to four turns when he has grown some himself.” Mirrim replied casually.

“Why are you so certain of the timing?”

“I expect Harlan’s golden to rise by then.  She will have two bronzes to fly her. B’nard, are you not feeling well?”

B’nard had pitched forward a bit and had turned slightly green. “Fire lizards are linked when they mate!”

“Please, B’nard. You had to have known that.” Mirrim replied. “Harlan’s Priti will supply Endyar with a cash flow in fire lizard eggs for turns to come. Who knows? Perhaps your mother’s brown will fly her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mirrim.  These are holder folk. They don’t have the same views on coupling, as the weyrs do. This could prove embarrassing to them. I am thankful that the girls have blue and green.

Mirrim laughed outright, “Blue rider, how can you be so blind to the proclivities of a green?”

B’nard rose and stomped up his steps to his room muttering. At his curtain, he turned at the laughing woman in his bathing pool. “You have no idea what havoc you have unleashed on the people of Endyar,” he growled.

“Oh B’nard, you are being a prudish old Aunti.” She called to the swishing curtain. “I did suggest that you impress one as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my favorite chapter and the most pleasurable to write. I got to bring in a fire lizard hatching somewhat reminiscent of Menolly coaching Robinton and Sebel and with the volume of hatchings reminiscent of when Kylara brought the eggs to Meron and his men. I also got to develop several Pernesian of my own design using Mirrim’s well-established character, (and Ann McCaffrey’s world of Pern). I hope they are believable and worth getting to know.


	24. Holder Plights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three-point political system of Pern couldn't be stable for more than a few centuries at a time except that Thread fell for a couple of generations every 250 years (turns). Since Fax challenged that system after 400 years of interstellar peace and if Thella and her marauders were not kept in check it must have sucked to be a holder. So this chapter deals with the common holders of Pern instead of T'gellan's Weyr on Monaco Bay. One more chapter then we'll go back to T'gellan's story. 
> 
>  
> 
> ###

It had been three seven-day since Mirrim and Path had flown over Endyar’s lands. The restday after her last visit, Mirrim was saddled with healer duties but B’nard was full of fire lizard news as well as messages from the people of Endyar once the two had settled into their bath that evening. The next rest-day Mirrim joined her green brothers for a romp on the surf of Benden beaches then a late night at the Tillek Fish Festival. B’nard had shown up about the time the dancing began. After a few sets with the ladies, he sat with Mirrim at a back table and relayed the crop and fire lizard progress.  By the time the Benden riders returned to their Weyr the eastern sky was already purpling. There was no bath that night. Mirrim forgot to ask about the spy B’nard had apprehended.

Mirrim and B’nard sailed over the hold’s heights with their dragons. Several fire lizards met them. As her three joined the Endyar fire lizards, Mirrim noticed hers were the only ones banded.  Since the fire lizards, the fear of human spies looking down from the heights had all but disappeared.  However, Endyar fire lizards couldn’t visit Benden without markings especially as Benden fire lizards were trained to run off the unbanded.

Path spiraled down behind Mowalth to land beside him in the middle of the reinstated courtyard. The men-at-arms still were present and they looked to their fire lizards as well as the heights. Harlan greeted the riders and escorted them into the hold where the family waited. Mirrim was quick to allay Bagira’s need to be a hostess. She saw the bags waiting to be delivered to the cot holders.

“I have no need of refreshments, Lady Bagira.  You have 28 bags for delivery and it can be done in half the time if Path and I help.” Mirrim saw Balla and Harlan smile at her suggestion. “Something I suggest be done immediately, though is banding your fire lizards with Endyar’s colors.”

“I did notice that your three have black and red markings on their necks. What do they mean?” Harlan asked.

“Those are the colors and symbol of Benden Weyr,” B’nard answered.

“The oldtimers used fire lizards to spy on Ramoth in order to steal her queen egg. It was then that all of Northern Pern banded any fire lizard that looked to a person.  Any unbanded fire lizard at a Weyr was considered a spy and chased away.” Mirrim added.

“We have become complacent,” Harlan said angrily. The other members of Endyar looked worried.

“No, don’t think you have been exposed to danger. You never saw fire lizards before my three, I doubt any of the ones about the hold are spying.” Mirrim assured. “But, we should put Endyar’s colors about their necks then train them to notify you when another without the hold markings is in the area. And, if you want to send a message to B’nard or me, then your fire lizards must be banded.”

“Come then children, to the main hall.” Lady Balla said as she turned. Bryn cheeped imperiously from her shoulder looking back to be sure they followed. “We are set for a good growing season but it does not mean we waste fresh klah.”

Endicara piped in “What colors do we use? The symbol on our pennant would take too long to paint.”

“It must be a sturdy paint.” Mirrim added.

“I have only black and white paint in any quantity. The Endyar Seal cannot be painted with only those two colors,” Bagira stated.

Iricara reached inside her tunic and produced her pendant. “We could paint Da’s symbol.”

“Yes, that is perfect, Iricara,” Lady Balla responded. “It is simple and can be done with only the two colors.”

Bagira sent her drudge for the paints then poured klah for the assembled. As Mirrim held Pati for Iricara, the girl painstakingly brushed a wide band of white over the fire lizard’s neck. When it had dried, she drew three black concentric circles then a tapered point from the center of them. As Mirrim looked at it, she recognized it with a sickening familiarity.

“I have seen that design before; where have I seen it? “Mirrim said slowly, almost to herself.

Endicara pointed over her shoulder with her brush to the portrait of her family. “My Da, Bolard, designed it. See the hilt and scabbard of his sword? He wrought it in his own forge. Bolard was almost a master blacksmith.”

As both Bagira and Balla admonished Endicara for her exaggerations, Mirrim looked intently at the painting. “Metal!” She stood and walked closer to the painting. “Barek and Ardelot have the same swords and scabbards. Metal. Metals remains when, but…” Abruptly she turned to Harlan. “Come with me, Harlan” She commanded in a stern voice.

Harlan rose and hesitated for only a moment. He came quickly to her side taking her arm. She grabbed hold and pulled him through the archway toward the hold door. “We’ll need riding gear.”

Harlan called to the drudge to collect their gear. He turned to her with concern, “What troubles you. Lady Rider?”

“Where is a good place for some fresh clay?”

Harlan gaped at her with no comprehension.

“Clay, man! Wet, goopy mud that holds a shape.” Mirrim said rapidly, “Unless you know a place near by, we’re jumping to the flats above Half Circle Hold because I know I can get some there.” She already had her heavy pants and jacket on and was through the door with her three fire lizards flying out and up.

Harlan hurried behind her pushing his arm through the sleeve of his jacket. “We can fly the short distance to the river bow. The women collect clay for mugs and bowls there.” He walked carefully up to the green dragon and her rider. She finished securing the straps then vaulted to Path’s neck.

“ _Mowalth’s rider wishes to know where we take the heavy one._ ” Path stated.

“ _Tell them we will either be back soon or will send for them._ ” Mirrim answered as she held her hand out for Harlan to sit behind her. “Where to?” She asked.

“Go to the end of the valley then due west until the SidleRiver.” Harlan replied. “What are we doing?” he asked as he clutched her waist when Path abruptly rose. They lifted high until the sparkle of the river to the east was in view. Path pumped her wings until they were over the river.  Mirrim pointed to the circular loop in the meandering river. Harlan gave her a squeeze and they dove. To Harlan, the ground approached mighty fast when Path spread her wings and tail flat and wide. Before he could gather his wits, Path had lighted and Mirrim pulled a leather pouch from a side pocket of her pants as she slid from her mount.

“It’ll do,” she spoke from the edge of the grey bank where she scooped handfuls into the pouch then sprinted back to Path.

“What are you doing, Mirrim?” He implored.

“I want to be wrong, Harlan. Sometimes when I am right, I just hate it. Let me be certain first, before I tell you.” Path had risen again. “We’re going between.” She called back. “ _Path, take us to the threaded meadow above Endyar Hold.”_

They emerged above the meadow with Harlan screaming. As she lighted on the same rocks as before, Harlan said, “Huh, that was much easier,” then he recognized where they were.

Mirrim unstrapped then began walking to the coil she remembered. Harlan followed. She pulled the pouch from her side pocket as she kneeled. She kneaded the cold mass in her hands then pressed clay into the fist-size circles working down the loopy triangles. Harlan stepped beside her as she pulled back the clay.  As she suspected the mold was a replica of the scabbard that Bolard, Borek and Ardelot had worn. “I am sorry, Harlan, I so wanted to be wrong.”

“They were threaded,” he breathed as he dropped to his knees. “They were all killed? Oh Bolard, forgive me for thinking you abandoned us.” Harlan broke into sobs. Mirrim had risen to put her hand on his shoulder that trembled. When he looked up at her he shook his head. “The boys had their whole lives in front of them. Borek would have made an excellent Holder.”

“I’m sending for B’nard,” Mirrim said as she conveyed the request through Path to Mowalth.

“Don’t let him bring Lady Bagira.” Harlan said as he sniffed and wiped his eyes.

A small brown fire lizard popped above their heads.  He circled and landed on the coil looking down at the clay mold.  His head twisted one way then the other. On his neck was the same symbol. “I suppose that Bryn’s presence means that B’nard will bring Lady Balla.” She pointed to the little brown.  Harlan’s gold popped in next and lighted on Harlan’s shoulder. She keened.

“I doubt it. Lady Balla would never fly on Mowalth.”

Mowalth appeared above Path then veered over to the humans.  He landed behind them.  As B’nard slid off he turned to pull his mother down. With as much dignity as a lady could she straightened her skirts and removed Bagira’s jacket. Bryn landed on her shoulder and cheeped sadly. B’nard had not lifted his eyes from the threadcoil.

“Path said the pattern in the coil is Bolard.” B’nard called out as he approached them.  He looked stricken when he saw Harlan’s face. He quickened his pace to be beside them. Mirrim pointed to the clay then the strange swirls and triangles.

“The clay is an impression of that part of the coil,” Mirrim stated quietly while pointing to each.

He pulled off his glove and traced his finger over the fist-size circles then the clay. As his mother limped up she gathered in the scene of clay, the faces and the black coil. B’nard rose and took his mother in his arms. “I think we found Bolard and the boys.”

She stepped away from him. “I need more proof than a blackened field.”

“Lady Balla, “Mirrim began. “When thread falls on an organic mass, it consumes and grows rapidly. Once it has consumes all that it can touch it dies.” She moved her arm in the arc of the thread coil. “This is what happens as it dies. It rolls in on itself then solidifies. Thread does not eat metal or rock. The organic mass that this thread ate was wearing a scabbard with these markings.”

Both men breathed heavily but Balla continued to glance from the coil to the clay mold. “If thread leaves the metal, then where is the sword and scabbard?”

“It must have been removed after the thread died and cooled. There are pry marks above the circles.” Mirrim’s voice tapered to a whisper.

”But who would…” Harlan began.

“This alpine meadow has been threaded twice since the beginning of this pass. It was hit in the first turn when Telgar refused to protect more than their oldtime territory.  Thread fell over this area again about three turns ago.” Mirrim said dully.

“How do you know this?” Lady Balla asked quietly.

“I brought Harlan up here on my first visit to Endyar.” Mirrim noted the accusing look that Balla shot both men. “He walked the field on the other side of this rock outcrop and said he was looking but he didn’t tell me what. I noticed this coil and investigated it because the only thread coils that I have seen this size were made from trees in Lemos.  At the time I noticed the anomalous marks in its side. About two sevenday ago, I consulted Benden’s map room to calculate threadfalls over TelgarTerritory. I didn’t put the coil marks with the scabbards in the portrait until Iricara started painting Pati this morning.” Mirrim fell silent. She was babbling.  The others were so quiet.

Balla sighed. “Bolard and my grandsons may have been robbed of their weapons and the thieves were caught out.”

Harlan spoke up, his voice quavered. “The runners with all the gear were found at Sands Crossings in Igen. This part of the meadow is far from the trail.”

B’nard started walking the area around the coil.  “There should be two more impressions of scabbards, and their belt buckles, boot nails and buttons.” The three able bodied people began looking and finding bits of the metal remains. The old woman stepped down to the coil marks, like B’nard she kneeled to run her fingers over it then began slamming her fist against it as wails of grief rose from her throat. She screamed curses to thread for taking her sons, curses to marauding renegades who made the mountain passes so dangerous and lastly to a man named Bonogan as B’nard pulled her to his chest and rocked her. Too many facts pointed to this bad end for Bolard, Barek and Adrelot.

As Balla calmed, she looked to her eldest son and placed her hand on his face, “I am grateful for Balarno. May he be the end of my terrible luck. Let us return to Endyar Hold, son. Bagira has a right to know that she is a widow. And, I am ready to question that spy.”

###

Path followed Mowalth down the valley to where the rocks tapered to the long stretches of green fields and gardens. 

A long ago memory surfaced as she watched the people working the harvest. She was a little girl, following the reapers to collect the sheaves of wheat.  Path sailed over the line of people and draft animals hauling the wagons, banked then landed well clear of the workers. She had shed her weyrhide jacket and pants by the time B’nard approached her.

“No restday during harvest.” Mirrim stated.

“Arden used to say that every restday in autumn.” B’nard replied as he shielded his eyes with his hand. “Harlan said this is going to be their best harvest since he died. All of Endyar are excited to harvest this last field.”

“Hmmm,” Mirrim responded. “Excited enough to work on a restday. Shall we assist the farmers?”

B’nard regarded her skeptically, “Would you truly like to help?” When she nodded he continued. “The last few turns Mowalth and I have conveyed the crop to the mill. It speeds up the harvest because both beasts and people can work the field. Do you think Path could manage a full wagon?”

Both Path and Mowalth snorted.

“There’s your answer,” Mirrim grinned as she put her gear back on. Five full wagons were parked at the edge of the half shorn field.  The dragons soon carried a wagon each to the Endyar Mill, located close to a waterfall that fed into the SidleRiver. The stone barns were nearly full. Path copied Mowalth who upended his wagon to leave the contents in a pile. The draft beasts, tethered to the millworks bucked and bawled but soon regained their calm as the two carnivores lifted their wagons and returned to the fields. They barely flinched as the last wagon was upended later in the afternoon. 

While some of the workers were content to walk to the hold, some were pleased, especially Bagira and the girls, for a dragon ride. She was eager for the time to finish meal preparations begun last night and early this morning. Her feast was to thank her cot holders, especially as they agreed to work together to bring in the last field on a rest day. Therefore Bagira was the first to greet the three auspicious guests and her Uncle Bonogan. “Scorch us black,” she swore under her breath when she saw him standing with Balla in front of the hold door along with Weyrleaders R’mart and G’narish and Lord Larad. Two of the men-at-arms barred the door.

Mirrim asked Path to drop them far back of the hold door but Path answered, “ _Branth and Gyarmath call us to the fore._ ” Both dragons raised their heads from the heights where neither rider nor dragon had seen them before. As Path landed according to the bronze dragons’ demands Mirrim said to her passengers, “Best tell your fire lizards to warn the others and stay away until called.”

Bagira slid off Path and helped the girls dismount; taking one in each hand she approached her uncle and guests.  Mirrim hung back with Path.

“Bonogan, Uncle,” Bagira said impersonally. “You do Endyar overdue honor by your presence.” Abruptly she faced Lord Larad and curtsied deeply. “Lord Larad I am honored by your presence to my hold.” The girls mimicked their mother.

Larad answered with a short bow, “Lady Bagira. This is R’mart, Weyrleader of Telgar and G’narish, Weyrleader of Igen.”

Both men gave curt nods but said nothing. Larad hesitated, looking to the two riders then past Bagira where Mirrim stood beside Path before clearing his throat. “We are here to discuss matters with the holder, not his lady or his mother.”

Bagira regarded her Lord Holder for a moment before facing the two dragonriders. “Endyar is honored to greet the Weyrleaders of Telgar and Igen.” She and her daughters bowed. “May I offer you the hospitality of our hold?”

G’narish answered, “There is no need for me, Lady of Endyar. I wish to settle this dispute and return to my weyr.”

“Dispute?” She faced Lord Larad again.

“It seems that Bonogan wishes to renew his claim for right to Endyar Hold.” Larad answered. “I, too, wish to return to my hold this restday. Where is Holder Bolard?”

Bagira stood taller, putting her arms around each daughter. “As Bolard’s legitimate wife, I hold Endyar in his absence.”

Bonogan stepped forward menacingly to his niece, “His absence runs past four turns and that without male heirs, his claim to Endyar is forfeit. As the closest kin to these women, I exercise my right to hold.“

“Why, Uncle, do you conclude that Bolard has no male heir?” Bagira asked coolly.

Bonogan stepped closer to her so that he could tower over her, “Bolard took his heirs Borek and Ardelot with him. None of them have returned. With no male heir, Arden’s line is finished and I become the legitimate heir to Endyar.”

“You are mistaken, cousin,” Balla limped forward to restrain Bonogan from intimidating Bagira. “There is a third son; Balarno is present in this hold. He is Bolard’s third heir and legitimate holder of Endyar or at least will be when he comes into his majority … if Bolard, Borek and Ardelot do not return.”

“There could be no such child,” Bonogan sputtered. “If such heir has existed then why have you not presented him to Telgar?”

Lord Larad interrupted, “Why would I have the need to approve a third son and heir?”

Bonogan rounded on Larad, forgetting the man’s position, “because Bolard and his legitimate heirs have been absent from Endyar for more than three consecutive turns and this third heir does not exist.”

“Stand down, Bonogan,“ Larad answered without backing up. “You have proven nothing. I am curious to know your intimate knowledge of Bolard and sons. Lady Bagira,” Larad interposed himself between the woman and her antagonistic uncle. “Where is your husband?”

“Bolard left our hold for Igen with Borek and Ardelot three turns ago.”

“For what purpose was Bolard taking both sons to...”

Cold air blasted through the group as Mowalth appeared overhead with B’nard and Harlan on his neck. Mowalth had barely touched the ground before B’nard jumped off with Harlan close behind him. Looking every bit the strong, fearless dragonrider he walked straight into the group. He saluted both Weyrleaders who had begun to display irritation. “Lord Larad, I am B’nard, Blue Mowalth’s rider of Benden Weyr and son of Arden, your kinsman. This man“ he continued while pointing at Bonogan, “has no claim on this hold.”

“What is a Benden rider doing in a hold that looks to Telgar?” R’mart asked.

B’nard saluted him again. “The people of Endyar are my kin. And they have been in distress since that cliff was blasted onto Arden six turns ago.”

G’narish stepped forward, “And the green rider; who is he?” He gestured to Mirrim who began walking toward the group keeping her head held high.”

B’nard stood straighter as he watched her approach, every bit a fighting dragon’s rider and definitely a woman. “This is green Path’s rider, Mirrim of Benden, my weyrmate,” he replied with possessive pride.

Mirrim saluted the two Weyrleaders then bowed to Lord Larad. She straightened and gazed directly at the man named Bonogan. He was thin and tall, his once broad shoulder had begun to stoop so that his heavy coat seemed to weigh on his frame. His hair may have been as thick as Bagira’s in his youth but it was thinning as it receded from his wide forehead.  There was no mistaking the cast of his face that he was kin to Bagira and Balla. Bonogan tried to hold Mirrim’s gaze but her uncanny resemblance to Bagira and the knowledge that she was a Benden rider seemed to defeat him.

Bonogan opened and closed his mouth a few time in the gathering silence then he croaked, “My claim is not against Benden riders but to this declining hold. I wish to take this hold as my right, threefold. Arden and I share a Telgar grandfather, Caraballa and I share an Igen grandfather and my sister’s daughter is the current Lady of Endyar Hold.

Balla harrumphed.

“We have harvested our last field this day and the byres are at capacity. Endyar is not in decline.” Bagira had restrained Balla as she said this. As Balla prepared to berate Bonogan, Larad held his hand up. He could see down the long valley that most of Endyar Hold’s people were approaching “Lady Bagira, perhaps we should retire to the hold.”

“I will not allow that man with his erroneous claims,” Balla replied angrily as she pointed at Bonogan,” access to my hold.”

Larad replied, “Please, Ladies, Rider B’nard, Let the cooler halls of the hold assuage our tempers.”

Bagira performed the formal bow of hospitality that normally a man would make. “My Lord Holder, Weyrleaders, Uncle, Kin,” she said as she rose taking Bonogan’s arm. “Welcome to Endyar Hold. We are honored by your presence. Please come inside.” She looked pointedly at her daughters who both ran ahead into the hold. Larad took Balla’s arm then followed. Both Weyrleaders turned as well. B’nard, Harlan and Mirrim stepped up behind.

At the hold door, Harlan stopped. “The men and I will guard the hold door.”  B’nard, your mother and sister will need your witness. He looked at Mirrim dazedly.

“I will help the girls in the kitchen,” Mirrim nodded. She stepped smartly into the hold making a sharp right then down the stairs to the kitchen.

“No, Harlan, your position as Steward is at the holder’s side. Come with me and we shall stand with Bagira.” B’nard stepped through in time to see the ensemble march through the archway. He pulled off his thick jacket as he trailed into the dining hall. He couldn’t decide whether he was in trouble as a Benden Rider outside of his weyr's area or if his claim to his ancestral home was enough to allow him voice for his mother and sister-in-law. He wondered if the discussion would continue to be confrontational. As he entered, he was impressed to see that Bagira had placed Bonogan so that he would have to stare up at the portraits of her and Balla’s families. Balla sat next to him. Surprisingly, Bagira sat at the head which caused the Lord Holder and Weyrleaders to sit opposite the vocal pair. B’nard stood at attention behind Bagira. Harland stood beside him.

Already Endicara had stepped out from the wall to pull the tray from the pass-through. She stepped to each person seated at the head table, placing finely shaped glass goblets before them.  She immediately filled them with a dark red wine then returned to the pass-through for place settings and a plate of sweetbreads and bowl of cream.

Meanwhile, Bagira had begun the litany that formalized the meeting. She ended with, “I apologize that I have no harper to witness and beg the dragonriders for their succor. My husband and holder of Endyar did indeed take our sons to Igen Hold three turns ago next month as Bonogan stated. They have not returned but we do not despair yet. Uncle, why do you give up hope?’

Bonogan gave his niece a quick nod then rested his eyes upon the portrait of Bolard with his family.  “I had arranged with Bolard to meet at the Inn at Sand’s Crossing so that I could make introductions of his heir to the Lord Holder of Igen. As agreed in the contract between Arden and myself. Ardelot was to be fostered to my Hold. Their runners and gear were there but there were no signs of Bolard or the boys. I sent inquiries to Endyar but received no response.  No response in three turns, except for vague accusations from my cousin Balla.”

“You were too quick with your condolences after the, ‘cave-in’ that killed Arden.” Balla rumbled.

“Bolard informed me via runner. I happened to be touring the northwest end of my hold and was able to come within a day of the runner reaching the farmcot.” He retorted tiredly. “Bolard was grateful for my presence.” He directed this last statement toward B’nard.

“Be that as it may, Uncle,” Bagira interjected while rapping her knuckles on the table. “You took advantage of my husband’s grief and struck agreements with him that granted you privileges which infringed on my children’s birthright.”

Larad held up his hand. “Enough!” He gazed directly into Bonogan’s eyes. “What of your hold, Lower Sidle, which looks to Keroon? Is it your intention to abandon it for Endyar?” 

G’narish turned a shade of red; his irritation of R’mart insistence to attend this petty boarder issue increasing.  Bonogan was the burr in his boot that he inherited from D’ram. Granted, that no Igen wing flew over lower Sidle and thread raged unchecked until three-quarters of the hold’s arable land was destroyed that first turn.  The land was not farmed four hundred turns ago. He waited for the holder to accuse him and to rail at Igen’s tithes.  G’narish was present to rid himself of the old burr by securing Bonogan’s right to Endyar. Bonogan had assured him that the hold was bereft of leadership only to find a third son, two Benden riders, one of them the famed girl green rider, and a steward who had to be a bastard brother to Larad. He should have insisted that Lord Corman of Keroon accompany him.

Bonogan briefly held his gaze before turning to Larad. “Lord Holder, I hold not enough arable land to support my people. Endyar has not enough people to work its land. Bolard had agreed to uphold my and Arden’s agreements. The ladies of Endyar will not hear of these agreements let alone honor them. I have no male heir and had hoped to make one of Ardelot. I have no sons or daughters.

“Very well, holder Bonogan,” Larad interjected during Bonogan’s pause. “Holder Bagira, what of these agreements your husband and father-in-law made. What reason do you give to not honor them?”

Bagira inclined her head most femininely as she began, “I understood Arden providing seed and stock to Sidle Hold after the beginning of this pass. I have grieved for the difficulties of my birth hold’s loss of arable land. Yet Endyar has faced difficulties too. Tragedies, my Lord,” she emphasized. “The renegades who hide in the mountain passes have robbed us of equipment, supplies and food. Some of my cot holders have disappeared or found dead and we can only surmise that the mountain raiders have killed them. Bolard, Borek and Ardelot may have fallen victim to them too but I still believe that they will return to Endyar. A blast took the use of half the Hold. It killed our prize stud and some stock. It grieves me that Arden still lies beneath the rubble of Endyar’s beasthold. But, Bolard never shared with me the plan to foster my middle son to Igen or Bonogan.”

Larad held up his hand as Bagira finished. He sighed.  He could not merge the lands of both holds without to Lord Holder of Keroon present. The presence of two Weyrleaders complicated that option. Neither would want the added responsibility of land or loss of tithes. He had grieved to hear of Arden’s death and had always wondered if the renegades were responsible for the blast that removed half of Endyar’s façade. He kept to himself his half-sister’s hand in the plundering of Telgar’s lands. There was other proof that Thella’s thievery had degenerated to murder. But, wanton destruction of a thriving hold in the form of explosions? Despite Bonogan’s current plight with his Endyar kin, Larad doubted the man had a hand in the cave in that killed his cousin.

He sipped some wine to gain more time. His eyes lifted to the steward and dragonman behind Bagira. He knew Harlan to be a competent steward and B’nard would have made an excellent holder but he rode a fighting dragon.

“Holder Bagira, I wish to meet Bolard’s third son. I intend to name him the apparent heir, in the absence of his two older brothers.  I also ask that Arden’s body be recovered. I will send a request to the Smithcraft Hall to assist. You should have time, now that the crop is in.” Larad turned toward Bonogan. “Holder Bonogan, I have no authority to credit your claim. Endyar must continue to belong to Telgar and Sidle is the right of Keroon. You have right to petition at the next conclave.”

Larad stood and with him the seated ensemble. “Heard and witnessed” chorused the three dragonmen.

As they returned to their seats, B’nard stepped forward, “Lord Larad, I agree that my father should be properly interred. On behalf of my kin, I thank you for the offer of the Smithcraft but my weyrmate, and our wingmates will assist Endyar hold.”

“I wish to offer my people’s assistance as well,” Bonogan said, looking directly at Bagira who nodded slightly. 

“Thank you, uncle.” She looked past him to her daughters, laden with a big pot of klah and plates of fruit, cheese and steaming flatbreads. She rose as she spoke. “Honored guests, kin: Let us retire to the other end of the great table where a light meal awaits. Lady Balla and my daughters will serve you while I fetch Balarno. B’nard, brother. Assist me.”

Bagira quickly exited while a perplexed B’nard followed her past the front hall filling with the people who had harvested Endyar’s last field that day. Bagira walked quickly so that B’nard had to trot to catch up as she slipped into one of the vertical stairwells and began climbing.  He knew then that they would arrive at one of the anterooms used for storage. She opened an ancient hatch and crawled through. B’nard swung the hatch closed behind him and crawled the short horizontal tube to where she stood in glowlight. As soon as he righted himself she threw herself into his arms.

“I lied! I lied to my Lord Holder! Oh how I lied about Bolard and our boys. I am weary of these turns of pretending. I was so scared and I am frightened to present Balarno before Bonogan. What do I do, Bonard?” 

B’nard gripped her tightly moving his arms to be about her shoulders. He supposed she needed a cry to relieve the stress of facing those men. He stood rigid, trying not to succumb to the ardor that rose, holding his first and probably only love in his life, besides Mowalth. “Shush, Bagira,” he replied with what calm he could muster. “You were magnificent. Your use of protocol; your statements all proved that you are more than capable to hold in Bolard’s absence.”

“He’s dead.” Bagira replied flatly. “Along with our sons, Bolard is dead. Balarno has turns to grow before he can hold in his father’s stead…”

Bagira pulled back to look into B’nard’s eyes. Her shining green eyes beseeched some acknowledgement from him that he could not fathom. Surely Larad would accept Balarno and Bonogan could not fall upon the child and kill him in the presence of Dragonmen and a Lord Holder. Frankly, B’nard never put much stock in his mother’s ranting about Bonogan. Yes, the man had ambitions just like Arden had but today he seemed broken of such aspirations.

“Bagira,” B’nard began softly as she continued to gaze upon him. “Fetch Balarno. He is the legitimate heir of Bolard. We both know that. He pushed her back by her shoulders as much to call her to action as well as pull away from her warmth and scent. She sagged a bit and leaned back into his shoulder to cry. He rocked her like a child, crooning softly to let herself cry out the grief and to pull herself together. He kissed the top of her head then pushed her away again.

She pulled a key from her skirt pocket and opened the door into a playroom where Palarimy and several of the firelizards were stationed with Balarno. The boy stopped his play to run to his mother.

Palarimy dropped the blocks he was holding as he rose. He looked from B’nard’s tear-soaked shirtfront to Bagira’s blotchy face. “But, Gimmy indicated that the session with the Lord Holder went well?”

B’nard chuckled when he looked down at his front. “Be easy, Palarimy, Lady Bagira performed well, she only needed a moment to sort out her wits.  We are here to collect Balarno so that Lord Larad may name him as Bolard’s heir.” Both men grinned, knowing a woman’s inclination to cry.

Bagira had already dipped a rag into a basin of water and wiped her face.  She then attacked her son’s face and hair. Briskly she began, “Palarimy, come down to the harvest feast and tell your Gimmy that all the fire lizards can go to their people.” As B’nard looked at her inquiringly, she shrugged, “Mirrim suggested that they make themselves scarce until the audience with the Weyrleaders and Lord Holder were concluded.”

“She’s a smart one.” He replied. He had known of the situation because little brown Tolly appeared at the mill creeling in alarm. Mowalth had communicated that big bronzes and images of men that Harlan was quick to identify as Lord Larad and Bonogan. He understood implicitly that Path was being controlled by the bronzes and he hoped that Mowalth had not been detected and especially that one of the bronzes was not Mnemeth.

Before he and Harlan made their sudden appearance they had managed to move Endyar’s people from far down the valley closer in order to use them in support of Lady Bagira. He hadn’t given a thought of the fire lizards.

By the time the three had returned to the great hall, Bagira had changed into a gather gown. As they entered, the Endyar people stood and cheered her. B’nard followed with Balarno in his arms. The three walked to where Larad sat with Bonogan and Lady Balla. The Weyrleaders had left. The feast had already begun so B’nard put the child in Bagira’s arms then walked to the table where Mirrim and her three fire lizards sat with some of the field workers. He gave her an appreciative smile while she glowed in his attention. Tolly moved from her shoulder to his and rubbed his small wedge head under his chin. Absently he popped a slice of roast into the brown’s mouth. Fai and her bronze Torri were across from him. Endyar’s hall was filled with its people but still half the tables were empty. 

Before the singing and dancing began, Larad named Balarno as the heir to Endyar in Bolard’s absence after Borek. Strangely, he also named Ardelot.as Bonogan’s heir apparent in Keroon’s absence. B’nard and Mowalth took Bonogan back to his hold as Mirrim and Path lifted with the Telgar Lord.

It was a full hour later and B’nard was about to exit his bath when he heard Path and Mirrim alight on the lip of their weyr.  She walked through his room to the bathing area, stripping her gear as she walked through her curtain. She deposited them quickly in her room then returned to dip into the warm waters.  After she dunked she rose beside him with a mouthful of water which she squirted into his face. She began chattering about the day, the work to harvest the last field. How she sent Tolly to him when she and Bagira found themselves before the Lord Holder and Bonogan.  How she and the girls got that huge meal to the hall and the women who simply showed up to work after the day in the field, especially Fai. She asked questions that she didn’t bother to listen for the answers, apparently. B’nard found his mind wandering to Bagira in the anteroom. She had thrown herself into his arms and clung to him, fiercely.

Mirrim broke his reverie when she admitted to taking Lord Larad to Keroon where she and a harper witnessed Lord Corman’s agreement to the heirs and established borders between Endyar and Upper Sidle Holds. She was exiting the pool to her own room when she added, “A good harvest.”

“Indeed.” He replied to the empty room.


	25. All The More Reason To Gather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, this is the "one more chapter" set in Endyar Hold before T'gellan re-enters the story.

Two blue and four green dragons popped simultaneously into the clear greeny-blue sky over Endyar Hold.  As they spiraled into the valley before the hold spontaneous cheers erupted from the gathering of Endyar’s people.  The multi-colored banners were hung from the windows, each with a black strip along the top to remind the people of the somber purpose of this particular gather.  A caravan of traders had arrived moments before the dragons appeared hoping to do some trading on this clear, crisp autumn restday. The three big wagons were in the center and all the people were milling about them in welcome.

B’nard on Blue Mowalth, F’tamad on blue Upoath, K’tonar on green Dalblarth, S’bald on Leith, Mirrim on Path and G’lenan and Soromiah on Boath managed a perfectly timed landing which encircled the people. As the riders stepped down from their dragons, each lighted to the heights to sun themselves before the work began. The traders were thankful at the quick appearance and exit of the dragons, their beasts were so slow to react that none needed to be cowed.

It had been two restdays since the confrontation with Bonogan before the workgroups could be assembled and plans to move the huge chunks of rock and where they should go. The new harper for Endyar, Zarento, stepped forward with a brass horn which he tooted three times.  It was the cue for the family to emerge from the hold. With fire lizards upon their shoulders, Lady Bagira walked forward with two guards beside her then followed Endicara and Iricara with Balarno between them. Each carried a longish dagger at her waist in scabbards their father had designed.  Lastly, Lady Balla was escorted by Harlan, her brown Bryn perched imperiously upon her shoulder while Golden Priti flitted diligently above the ensemble.

Zarento read the litany of Endyar’s history then broke into song about the holds of Telgar which the people joined at the Telgar chorus. As the song ended, Zarento looked to the girls who brought their little brother forward. He read Larad’s proclamation for young Balarno which did not acknowledge his brothers or father’s deaths. The formalities ended with the acknowledgement of Arden’s body under the rubble of the beasthold. With that, the workers walked toward the jumble of rock, while the cooks and servers moved to the pits where beasts had been trussed and lowered before Pern’s sun rose that morning. Some of the traders joined the workers while others joined in the preparation of the feast.  Lady Balla stood on a dais, directing the layout of the tables and benches; reserving one for the guests she expected that evening and another for the dragonriders and journeymen crafters.

As G’lenan left with the other dragonriders he kissed Soromiah lightly on the cheek. “Go find Lady Bagira over by the open ovens. Mirrim says she and her look alike.”

Soromiah watcher her dragonman run up to his landing dragon, vault to her back and lift in one fluid movement. Since G’lenan had come into her life, she had blossomed.  No longer the shy holdergirl, ready to do her brother or Lord Holder’s bidding, she reveled in the freedom that G’lenan and Boath permitted her.  Soromiah was about to approach a Lady of a main Telgar hold like an equal. Temerity would never have been her character except for the rider and his green dragon.

She shooed her brown fire lizard from her shoulder, “Go play, Fustus.” She commanded at the tiny beast with silver and blue marking upon his neck. He circled up among the many marked with Benden and Endyar colors. She walked purposefully through the crowds of people oblivious to appraising looks of the men folk. Several women remarked upon her foreign design of dress as she passed, nodding and smiling to all.

Soromaih knew Bagira from the moment she saw the woman directing two others who were stirring pots. With a big smile and her hands out in the greetings of a visiting holder, she stated formally, “Holder Bagira of Endyar, I, Soromiah of Fortingal hold of Nabol, greet you.”

Bagira smiled widely, “I greet you, Soromiah of Fortingal. We share a mutual friend in green Path’s rider, Mirrim of Benden. Come, I have a place for you to put your riding gear in the Hold. Plus I must get seasonings for the pots.”

They entered the hall, side by side with Iricara and Pati following.  The drudge took Soromiah’s gear as Bagira beckoned her to follow down the stairs to a long hall that represented the kitchen. Opposite the ovens were rows of breads rising.

Bagira took a ring of keys from her skirt pocket, flung through several before settling on a stubby one which she used on a wooden door next to the kitchen’s exit. She pulled out a jar full of pinkish crystals dotted with dark red and black flecks. “Iricara, bring that bowl here,” 

The young girl with a green fire lizard trying desperately to hang onto the girl’s shoulder bobbed up with the requested ceramic bowl.

Bagira deftly grabbed the bowl while spinning the top off the glass jar. A scoop rested within.  Taking three measures into the bowl Bagira handed it to her daughter while spinning the lid tight then securing the door.  “Carefully now, girl, take this bowl to Fai.  Tell Fai to divide it evenly between the pots.”

“Yes ma’am,” Iricara replied as she stepped out of the kitchen. The girl put the bowl on the shelf so that she could pull a long skirt over her tunic.  It was hot in the kitchen. The two ladies hastened to pull off their outer dresses and don aprons.

“I need to punch down this bread. Would you like to help?”

Soromiah held up her fists, “Let me at them”

Now that the kitchen was empty save for the two ladies they talked of their holds, their Lords and kin. Before long the subject of Mirrim came about. Soromiah prattled on about Mirrim’s life as if they had been as close as sisters.

“G’lenan says that someday T’gellan will return and take Mirrim to Eastern.” Soromiah finished her story of Mirrim and her bronze rider. She dusted her hands over one of the punched down loaves and began on the next.

Bagira had stopped mid punch showing genuine interested for the first time since the younger woman had started her romanticized rendition of a woman she had only known as reserved and serious. With her hands deep into the dough she turned to Soromiah. “But B’nard calls her his weyrmate. I thought that meant they are together.”

“Oh,” Soromiah giggled. “G’lenan told me how B’nard had pursued Mirrim after T’gellan left to lead Eastern Weyr. He said it was because she looks like you. Oh, and she rides a green dragon. Blue riders are always interested in the greens. And each time Mirrim’s Path rose, Mowalth and B’nard vied to catch them.” Soromiah giggled again, “G’lenan said that Path’s flights are so popular that the Weyrleaders impose lots for who can chase her.”

“You make Mirrim and Path sound like a golden rising in a mating flight.”

“It is a mating flight,” Soromiah asserted. “Greens rise and even bronzes have been known to take chase. Greens rise much more often but their eggs are sterile because they chew firestone. But now that B’nard and Mirrim are weyrmates, only Mowalth chases Path when she rises.”

Bagira gave her dough an extra punch then absently began reshaping it. “So because of their dragons they are together. They have no choice in it?” Bagira was perplexed.  Although some wistful part of her still waited for B’nard, especially in the sevendays since he knew that Bolard was dead, she had determined that B’nard perhaps never had wanted her. Five children had plumped her body while Mirrim’s was firm and lithe. Bagira had even cut her hair recently to shoulder length in an attempt to look more like Mirrim.

During the first turn of marriage to Bolard, she could pretend that her first love held her.  Bolard did not want her and the two had been forced into the marriage. In those first turns Bolard had kept her with child.  Not until her fourth child was born in as many turns did Arden intervene. Then Bolard no longer cared to touch her.

Shortly thereafter, the widow, Fai with her son, was brought from north of Telgar to marry the old farmer, Reston, she birthed a son within a turn. She now had three strapping boys who looked like Bolard instead of Reston. When Bagira discovered that the two had been apprenticed at the same time at the smithcraft hall, she understood. Bolard had a woman he loved and had intended to bring to Endyar as his wife but then he was cowed with Bagira and the Hold.  She could not find the indignation to be angry. At least Bolard, being a man and exerting the privileges of Holder, had found the means to keep his lover. And her only choice was to accept the privilege of Lady of Endyar and mother of the heirs.

Bagira also knew that her husband felt responsible for Arden’s death but he would never elaborate.  After his and their sons’ disappearance, Bagira spoke long with Fai one winter. She could not fathom the man’s feelings of guilt either.

“Bagira? Did I upset you?” Soromiah asked.

“Oh, no. No.” she replied quickly. “I didn’t know. B’nard shares so little of weyrlife and I never gave much thought to how much Mirrim and I looked the same. They’re together because their dragons mated. I thought only Bronzes and Goldens mated.”

“There’s a lot of sacrifice to being a rider.” Soromiah said, sagely then winked mischievously.

“These loaves will need to rise again before we bake them.  Would you like to see the upper levels of Endyar Hold and we can look out from the heights at the progress of the rockwork?”

Soromiah smiled, “That’d be lovely.” She shook the dough and flour from her hands and followed Bagira to the sink so they could wash their hands and put their gowns back over their shifts.

“So tell me more of T’gellan the bronze rider of Monarth and first Weyrleader of Landing.” Bagira said as they exited the kitchen, “Have you met him?”

###

 The dragons were rigged with straps to carry off the rock. Bagira, Balla and Harlan had discussed where the quantities of slabs would have their best use. They had drawn plans for reinforcing shelters, building more open holds for the herds and runners and what should be used to repair the hold’s beasthold, if salvageable. Some rock would be deposited above the hold in order to fortify it and remove the vulnerability of the hold entrance and approach. The most innovative plan was to use the biggest rock for placing in SidleRiver, a joint plan with Bonogan’s people, to flood some of his threaded fields and create a new dam to run a mill that both holds could use at harvest.

By the time the sun had reached zenith, the biggest rocks were gone and the workers were ready to pull rubble by hand, expecting to find remains with each rock.  A halt was called for a quick lunch. Shortly after the workers and dragons returned to rock removal the first body was found.  It was a runner, crushed. It was quickly removed. As the hold’s beasthold entrance was cleared, Arden’s remains were found just inside and only a foot away from where the rock and slag stopped falling. Healers were called in to remove him and dress him for interment. B’nard left to collect Bonogan who was observing the work at the new damn at their border. Mirrim and F’tamad left for Telgar to collect Lord Larad and a Mastersmith.

Fandarel himself arrived on a Telgar Bronze. He examined the damaged entryway to the beasthold where the smithy was located. Most farmcots and almost every main hold required a location, usually adjacent to a beasthold for farrier work and minor metal repairs.  Bolard had expected to become a journeyman blacksmith before his brother’s impression thus he had expanded the use of the hold’s smithy when he became the heir to Endyar. Harlan and B’nard joined Fandarel to determine where the furnace had once been located.

Lord Larad and Bonogan were called to witness along with the new Endyar harper. Bagira and Lady Balla crept through the long-unused hold passage now that the entrance had been cleared so that all heard Fandarel’s conclusion. The blast that all had heard and felt that day had been the furnace, centuries in use and used past capacity had failed.  Balla recalled the argument that morning between Arden and Bolard.  Arden had wanted his stud runner shoed and Bolard was in the middle of forging one of his designs. Bolard had been in the hold passage when the furnace exploded which shot up the exterior of the cliff. Centuries of oxide and creosote deposits only needed the superheated charge to race up the cliff. Of course the rock crumbled over the runners in the corral outside the smithy but, Arden, just at the entrance was hit by flying slag and brick.  His death was instant.  Fandarel determined that another step or two within the beasthold and Arden could have been spared but probably burned.

Balla accepted the explanation with stoic composure. She turned to her cousin, Bonogan, and curtsied to him. “I have wrongly accused you, kinsman. Arden’s death was an accident.”

Bonogan nodded in the continuing silence then responded, “Arden was a good man. A strong and brave Holder. I have missed his counsel and friendship. I have missed yours as well, Caraballa.”

“Do you accept my grandson Balarno as the legitimate heir of Endyar after Bolard and Borek?”

“I do,” He responded. “Do you accept, when they return, that Ardelot shall be the heir of Sidle Hold and will be delivered to me?”

Balla looked dumbstruck and stuttered.

“It is my heartfelt wish that my husband and sons are returned to me, Uncle Bonogan.” Bagira interjected. “On that wonderful day, allow me to savor Ardelot’s return to me before I send him to you.”

“Agreed.”

“Heard and Witnessed, “all dragonmen save B’nard replied. Healing had begun and time for deciphering Bonogan’s replies and ultimately showing him the coils in the meadow above Endyar could wait.

The ensemble turned to the next planned activity which was Arden’s funeral and feast.

###

The dragonriders sat at their table with a selection of Endyar ladies and Soromiah just below the main table where B’nard sat between his mother and sister-in-law. Lord Larad sat to Bagira’s right; Bonogan to Balla’s left. Fandarel had left after he paid his respects to Arden’s family.

The sun was behind the lower cliffs which meant the Benden riders were more than late to their cots. None were ready to leave; such was the jovial mood of all the people despite the purpose of the day’s work.  There were few gathers left before the Northern winter set in.

S’bald shrugged his sore shoulders. “Oh for two restdays in a row. We’ll not get home in time for a soak. I am barely rested from the fall over Lemos two days ago.”

“You flew fall only two days ago then worked today to help us at Endyar?” A pretty, brown-eyed girl simpered at S’bald appreciatively. He winked provocatively and her smile brightened.

“Ah yes, Mirrim,” S’bald continued as he slid one arm around her and the other around the pretty brown-eyed girl. “I understand why you have spent your every free restday in this lovely valley although your brothers have missed you.” He gave each shoulder a squeeze then moved his arm down to the girl’s waist and let Mirrim go.

She smirked and looked across at Soromiah and G’lennan who sat close together, clasping hands. At that moment the two, who had been in quiet conversation, kissed. Mirrim looked away quickly but her eyes alighted on the head table where B’nard had bent his head in close to Bagira to hear her.  He pulled back, roaring with laughter as she grinned. Mirrim looked back to her own table where K’tonar had been regarding her knowingly.

“Don’t start with me,” Mirrim countered lightly as she flung a bread crust at K’tonar.”

“I merely observe.” He countered as he knocked the crust to the ground. “You are such a hard worker even on a restday, Mirrim.”

“What do you mean, dear brother?” She smiled slyly. “Is this not a Gather?”

G’lennan’s head whipped up. “You can’t count a day of working your dragon hauling rock as a proper Gather. The entire day must be spent in complete leisure and you are incapable if it.”

Mirrim’s ire rose as she began her retort but F’tamad leaned in grasping her wrist where it lay outreached on the table. “There’s a Gather in Nerat next restday.  The last of the season in the East.  I’ve got five marks in my pouch that says you wiggle your way out of going with us.”

Mirrim was working to free her arm when Soromiah added, “Oh Mirrim, lets do. Let’s go to the last Gather of the Turn in Nerat.  I’ve never been. If I tell my brother that I go with a group that includes you, he is sure to allow it.”

K’tonar added, speaking over her head, “What say you, B’nard? Nerat Gather next restday and you buy the first round in gratitude for our assistance today.”

B’nard smiled easily as he placed his hands on Mirrim’s shoulders. “Gladly! And I will buy the first, second and third round if Mirrim agrees to actually attend the entire Gather.”

Mirrim grimaced as she looked up at her weyrmate. “I’d go just to see you actually pay for that third round!”

“And bring your sister-in-law too,” piped K’tonar.

“Oh do, please B’nard. I know Bagira would love to see something besides Endyar before winter bars holders from travel.” Soromiah said unexpectedly.

“Gladly,” he repeated.

“We should bring the children too, don’t you think?” Mirrim added.

“Bagira should let them attend. I will tell her she must.”  Soromiah rose as she added. “I will tell her now. Come with me G’lenan.”

The riders chuckled while Mirrim sighed and the six dragons bugled.

“Fine, Nerat in a sevenday.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks, everybody for your kudos and comments. They are much more gratifying than I would have known.


	26. What Happens in Nerat Gather . . .

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pern and her dragonriders belong to Ann McCaffrey. It's such an interesting place to visit.

Talina was in his weyr again, uninvited. “Come with me; Lord Begamon and his Lady invited you too,“ she pleaded.

“A rest day means a rest from you, Talina. I have asked you not to enter my weyr,” T’gellan replied tiredly. He and Monarth had been swimming in the surf that morning and he had recently returned from the showers, prepared to sit at the great table in his weyr and work through the piles of hides and papers that seem grow before his eyes.

“A gather is what you need, Weyrleader. Some dancing, a bit of wine … it will do the both of us good. I have a duty to help you relax. T’gellan. How do I manage that when you don’t even let me into your weyr, let alone your bed?” Talina looked up at him with beseeching eyes.

T’gellan wanted to relent, simply because the diversion of the Northern Continent would allow him to forget the current problems of holders leaving to carve their own way through the forests and savannahs up-river. The feline predators had been active but that didn’t stop them from leaving Eastern and he desperately needed the manpower. The weight of Eastern Weyr sat heavy upon his shoulders. He peered down at Talina who was wearing a new, sky blue gown made of the spun fibers that Veena, the resident seamstress and weaver had devised. It was another item that Eastern could sell to the north for much needed marks. The Weyr was metal poor. With a few exceptions, her behavior, lately, had been passable. Talina was trying to behave like a leader. He knew that being seen together away from the Weyr was as important to their leadership as within the sprawling complex that was called Eastern.

He smiled, “A day at Nerat Gather will indeed restore us both,” and she beamed.

“I have a tunic for you,” she gushed as she stepped to the doorway and retrieved the garment. It was the same shimmering fabric but a deeper blue.

He took the shirt from her, pulled off his vest and slipped it on. He had heard that the bushwhackers liked this fabric because it was lightweight yet durable. Long sleeves that stopped the countless thorns, spines and pricklies from snagging skin while cutting though the dense growth were prized. He liked the feel of it and Talina’s gaze conveyed that it fit well. He grabbed his heavy wherhide riding gear and proffered his arm to his lovely Weyrwoman and said, “Let’s go a-gathering.”

Monarth burst above Nerat with Arwith appearing above and a dragonlength behind. Announcing their arrival with a trumpeting call while mentally informing the watch dragon that the Weyrleaders of Eastern Weyr had arrived, he began spiraling toward the patch of open court in front of the cliffs that was called Nerat Hold. As he landed, T’gellan slipped from his neck, pulling the riding straps with him. Monarth bunched his legs and lifted as Arwith landed seconds after he rose. T’gellan didn’t have to move as Arwith held her wings high. Talina slid into his arms and he set her down. Both stepped to the edge of court where a minor servant of Nerat’s steward was waiting to take their gear.

It was still early in the Gather. After a few niceties to Bergamon and his Lady, T’gellan and Talina took light refreshments then walked the stalls. They retired to the hold, proper, for the main meal of the gather along with the rest of the dignitaries who honored Nerat with their presence. Talina modeled her gown to the ladies of the hold, letting them feel the fabric but Delianna and one of the Eastern green riders were who extolled the fabric’s durability for all its lightness.

Looking out to the stalls, T’gellan saw that the square was clearing for the evening festivities. Harpers were tuning up their guitars and pairs of dancers were assembling. He looked back at his weyrwomen wondering if he could leave them or should he wait to see if they completed any sales. Delianna caught his gaze and nodded with a wink. In the next instant he was outside again, feeling the sea breeze flavored with the roasted meats and baked pastries.

He recognized Elgion on the stands, playing a guitar and singing a new Harper tune with other musicians. He waved with familiarity but Elgion merely dipped his guitar and continued singing.  He saw the knots of High Reaches and FortWeyr riders seated close to the wine steward’s stall. Noting the ranks of Wingleaders, T’gellan approached.

One rider looked up from his bench, “Ah T’gellan, er Eastern Weyrleader, please sit with us.”

“ _Joorrth’s rider,_ ” Monarth interposed unobtrusively.

“Thank-you, Bronze Joorth’s rider G’ben,” T’gellan answered smoothly, remembering the name of the rider as he spoke.  He nodded to the men opposite him, “G’ben, H’alfard, convey my respects to Weyrleader M’rand. As he stepped over the bench to sit, he continued his greetings, “A’tor, N’pennet and L’kojar, my same to N’ton.”  The men smiled and greeted him as well. Some women were sitting with them. One lifted a skin of wine to fill a cup and place it before T’gellan.  He accepted it graciously.

The men talked of their dragons, current injuries and movement of ranks while the ladies looked longingly at the dance floor. T’gellan held out his hand to the lady who filled his cup. She gladly rose with him to the floor to dance the energetic fling. No sooner had he returned her to the table of Wingleaders than a younger woman eagerly approached him with his cup.  “Here, Weyrleader. Drink this and spin a set with me!”

The next set of dances kept T’gellan on the floor with sips of wine whenever the cup was handed to him. As the fourth set slowed to the third movement, a couple’s three-step, T’gellan found his head swimming a bit and Talina laughing in his arms. As the Harpers took a break, she led him to the table that the other Eastern riders had claimed.

By the time a fresh set of Harpers took to the podium, T’gellan knew he had drunk too much wine. After several more sets on the floor he and his Eastern group were content to sit to table. His gaze was drawn to the dragons lining the heights. There was enough light left to discern where Monarth and Arwith perched but to his surprise there was a small green between them and all three were grooming each other. As T’gellan tried to interpret the sight, a brown fire lizard landed directly in front of him gazing upon him with swirling green eyes that changed quickly to blue. He rubbed his wedge head under T’gellan’s chin and chittered happily.

“Shoo,” Talina screeched while batting her fan at the fire lizard. He shot straight up and popped between. “A nuisance, fire lizards,” she exclaimed then returned to her conversation with Delianna and Melnita.

T’gellan looked up at the dragons again, recognizing Path as the green between Arwith and Monarth. “ _She’s here! Mirrim is at a Gather!_ ” he thought to himself. An overwhelming desire to see her took him to his feet and away from the Eastern group. “ _How long has it been, Monarth?_ ” he asked his dragon who didn’t reply. “ _I have not looked upon Mirrim since the infirmary_ ,” he thought to himself. He made a full circuit of the dance floor then a new set brought a few more dancing pairs to the floor. When he saw the tall woman in a Benden Blue Rider’s arms, her wavy chestnut hair touching her shoulders he moved onto the floor without thinking. B’nard saw his approach.

“May I cut in,” T’gellan commanded with a slight bow. B’nard half saluted as he handed his partner to the Eastern Weyrleader.

Bagira turned to him and he gracefully pulled her back into the throng of dancers for all his shock that she was not Mirrim.

“You are Eastern Weyrleader T’gellan!” she stated a bit breathlessly after studying his shoulder knot.

Chagrinned, he replied, “Yes. Are you Blue Rider B’nard’s Lady?”

She looked down before replying, “I am his sister-in-law. He kindly brought us to Nerat Gather.”

He studied her face and curve of her neck. He noted that her hairline across her freckled forehead was so close to Mirrim’s that they could have been sisters. Would Mirrim associate with blood relatives? She kept averting her eyes so that he couldn’t look into them. He wondered if they could possibly be the same green hue as Mirrim’s. “Does B’nard’s sister-in-law go by any particular name?”

Bagira blushed then said, “I am Bagira, Lady of Endyar Hold of Telgar above the Great Dunto.”

“You are far east of your hold, Lady Bagira,” T’gellan responded conversationally.

“And you are far west and quite north of your Weyr.” They both chuckled.

T’gellan moved Bagira about the floor until the set ended. He bowed to her curtsy then said, “I took you from your dance partner. I must escort you to your table.”

Quite nervously, she replied, “Please do not avail yourself sir.”

“I insist!” he responded. T’gellan was certain that Mirrim was at this same gather and he knew that she had been B’nard’s weyrmate for about half a turn. Talina had made sure he was informed. His curiosity of the relationship between the women and the blue rider suppressed his sense of duty. The wine made his desire to see Mirrim even stronger. Tucking her hand into his elbow he asked, “Where to, or did I spin you too much?”

Bagira stepped from the floor and weaved back among the chairs and tables to one at the edge where several Benden riders were seated, save the one he wanted to see. As one, S’bald, G’lenan, F’tamad and B’nard stood and saluted him. As T’gellan returned the salute, Bagira pulled her arm away and returned to B’nard. T’gellan extended his arm to each rider, gripped each warmly.

“Ah, how good to see Benden riders!” he exclaimed. “G’lenan, your old wing misses you.”

G’lenan responded to his former wingleader, “Please convey my regards to them, Weyrleader. T’gellan, I wish to introduce you to Soromiah of Fortingall Hold.”

T’gellan nodded to the wide-eyed girl next to the green rider then turned to the rider on her other side. “F’tamad, please convey my regards to S’kel. Is he at Nerat Gather too?”

“No, Weyrleader,” F’tamad replied. “I do not believe my Wingleader is here.”

Bagira said in low tones to B’nard, “Where are the children?”

“K’tonar and Mirrim took them to the Necessary,” he replied.

The silence after her name was mentioned grew until T’gellan said, “Mirrim came to Gather too, eh?!” The other riders nodded assent. The two women glanced at each other then looked down.

“ _Arwith’s rider looks for you,_ ” Monarth interrupted.

“ _Where is Mirrim? Can you hear her? Can you see her?_ ” T’gellan eyes lost focus as he asked his dragon.

“ _Arwith’s rider looks for you,_ ” Monarth repeated.

T’gellan straightened. “I must return to my table. Please give Mirrim my regrets that we missed each other.” He absently saluted then he walked back to his table. For a brief moment he wondered if she purposely avoided him then thought better as he reflected on who he knew Mirrim to be.

Talina appeared before him, “Weyrleader, the rest of the Eastern riders returned home. Are you ready to leave now or will you stay?”

“Are you leaving?” he replied, taking her by the elbow and walking toward the Hold.

“Yes, morning comes earlier for us,” Talina smiled up at him as she leaned into his side and put her arm around his waist. Naturally his arm shifted to her shoulder as they continued walking toward their dragons. She could sense his subdued mood. True to her nature, she played it to her advantage. She stayed with him in his weyr until morning and soon had her presses moved to his bedchamber.

As T’gellan shifted away from a sleeping Talina in his cot that night he reflected upon his life when Mirrim shared his weyr. They were happier times before circumstances and duty prevailed. Circumstances had separated them. He recalled how so many Weyrfolk counseled both of them after Mirrim had come to live at Benden that their bond would never be more than passing, especially after she impressed Path. Duty dictated that he remain with Talina. Mirrim had moved on to a life with B’nard, and had made friends with more blue and green riders. Actions he had counseled her to do as well. Still, Mirrim was capable of more than the role of the rank-and-file fighter. Why had circumstances denied this bright woman, so capable to lead and put one so inept at his side? Why did he deny himself Mirrim? He confessed to himself that he still longed for her.

###

Mirrim and Path finished their assigned sweep-ride; they appeared above the star stone. Path informed her that Monarth was on the heights. Even though her stomach grumbled in hunger, the sight of seven foreign bronze dragons sunning in the late afternoon sun, killed her appetite. Instead of landing in the bowl, she directed Path to their weyr. “ _Go say hi to Monarth if you like_ ,” Mirrim said as she slid from Path and removed the riding straps. She stood on the lip of her weyr watching Path lift on a breeze to the bowl’s edge. She dipped one wing to flit over the great bronze and neatly land beside him. With a flip of her wings to her back she sidled up to Monarth who shifted closer to her. They briefly touched noses then Monarth looked directly at Mirrim, eyes whirling blue to yellow. She sighed and turned toward her chamber.

Mowalth was regarding her from his couch, eyes spiraled blue then yellow as he raised his head. She crossed over to him and rubbed her hand against his snout, “ _Monarth is sad for you, dark one._ ” He crooned as she used both hands to rub along his jaw. “ _I am sad for you, Path’s rider._ ”

Tears slipped from Mirrim’s closed eyes as she replied, “ _I am sad for Monarth and for B’nard and for Bagira and you too, Mowalth_.” She gasped a sob as she wrapped her arms around the blue dragon’s neck and buried her head for a more thorough cry. When B’nard had finished his sweep-ride, he had grabbed something quick to eat then retired to his weyr, not caring to see if Mirrim and T’gellen talked. When he heard Path land on the lip, he looked out the curtain of his chamber and saw his Mowalth comforting Mirrim. He approached his dragon then lifted her. He carried her to settle against Mowalth’s shoulder. He cradled her as her renting sobs took full breath. He crooned and mumbled assurances as he stroked her hair. Mowalth curled his neck around the riders adding his warbles.

“I’m sorry,” Mirrim mumbled as her crying subsided.

B’nard hugged her tightly, “I’m sorry too.” She made no attempt to leave him which was out of character. Ever since she had moved into this weyr, she had conformed to their living agreement. P’llomar packed and left by the next restday. She stayed in his chamber until the sweetsands and buckets of hot bath water removed the stench after the other green rider had fouled it.

“You say he was looking for me at Nerat Gather?” Mirrim stated more than asked.

“Bagira thought that the way he studied her while dancing, he cut in thinking she was you.”

“Perhaps,” Mirrim demurred. She snuggled further into B’nard’s shoulder. “T’gellan knows that I don’t care to dance.”

“You should have come back to the table when you saw him bring Bagira back. He wanted to see you.” Mirrim stiffened in his arms and he tightened his grip on her.

“It’s best that we don’t see each other. I know I couldn’t control myself and I never want to know that T’gellan can.”

B’nard was beginning to feel uneasy with her proximity and silence.  Mirrim was rarely quiet. After they had remained silent for a few more minutes he said, “It’s alright that you still love T’gellan, you know.”

“I love them, both of them,” Mirrim sniffed. She sat up wiping her face with her sleeves. With a shuddering sigh she continued, “I love Monarth as much as I love T’gellan. Now, they’re gone from me, both of them. I am empty; it still hurts, so badly.”

“You love the rider’s dragon,” B’nard stated, mystified. “How is that? Monarth’s bond is with T’gellan; not you.”

She shifted deeper into his shoulder then with a sigh, “I was an apprentice healer at Southern when Monarth brought T’gellan with injuries. T’gellan’s shoulder was pierced with a dragon’s foreclaw and it had been contaminated with icor. I was about twelve turns and the only healer small enough to crawl between the dragons to get to the rider and free him from the claw.” She paused, “Monarth spoke to me.”

“Huh. That’s what happened when T’gellan saved Keth and B’tarth. A foreclaw into his shoulder.” B’nard stared across the weyr, trying to remember that frightening fall. “Then Monarth talked to you…”

“T’gellan was fevered for two days and both Brekke and I had to convince Monarth to not go between, that T’gellan would wake. I made vows to Monarth that I’ve kept and he made vows to me.”

“Vows?”

“Maybe I don’t know how to explain it,” Mirrim replied after a sigh. “I just know that Monarth and I shared devotion to T’gellan almost as strong as what Path and I share for each other. It’s like he infused me with a dependence on T’gellan. And a dependence on him too; I am empty since we stopped conversing anymore…” She shuddered with fresh tears.

B’nard held her close, bringing her forehead to his lips. Maybe it was the herbs she used in her hair or oils for her face to combat the winds at sweeprider altitudes but the scent caught his imagination and fueled his ardor. Mirrim responded with burning lips against his. Both stood, simultaneously trying to rid themselves of clothing while pushing against each other. Pressed against Mowalth, they made love frantically. After, B’nard leaned Mirrim against his dragon fighting to regain his composure. She gently pushed him back then took him by the hand, leading him to the bathing pool.

By the change to second watch the two riders, bodies slick with sweat, laid atop Mirrim’s cot in peaceful slumber. B’nard woke to unfamiliar darkness then shifted to his side, pulling the sleeping woman to his chest. He hummed appreciatively. Mirrim was no meek holder girl. She loved with an honest strength that challenged as well as gratified him.  He buried his face into the nape of her neck and moaned her name.  Never did he expect to have Path’s rider without benefit of a mating flight. Never did he expect her to satisfy his smoldering need for a woman’s body.

Before, alone in his room, he had imagined taking Bagira in his arm and thought only of Mirrim as a substitute. Now, he was surprised and a bit appalled to realize that not once, in the shared ecstasy against Mowalth’s flank, in the waters of their bathing pool then lastly, before exhaustion overtook them on Mirrim’s cot, did he think of the Lady of Endyar Hold.

He pressed his forehead between Mirrim’s shoulder blades. This new emotion was unexpected. Was he her substitute for T’gellan or was she accepting him as her mate? Other lovers had told him that he was too reserved, too prefatory. Some of his wingmates were certain that this was why he strove to attain Path and Mirrim. F’lar was so pleased with him, mostly for brining the willful green rider to his weyr. The Benden Weyrleader’s reprimand that the two received after the report from Telgar and Igen was a modest chiding. The benefits of having Mirrim and Path as weyrmates far outweighed the detriment the other blue riders perceived.

But, he had always wanted Bagira, he had always felt the duty to his land and family. “I don’t doubt that T’gellan will come for you some day and take you to Eastern. Not after the way he looked upon Bagira at Nerat.”  B’nard whispered to Mirrim. “And, I know you’ll go with him. What will Molwalth and I do then?” B’nard pulled the covers over both of them and settled for sleep.  His head would be clearer by dawn.

When he awoke, he was alone in her bed but the place where she had lain was still warm.  He rose to find her by the pool holding a sack of blackrock in each hand. She was raising her arms to be level with her shoulders then lowering them back down to her sides.

“What’s this you do?” he approached her.

She loosened the straps about her hands as she replied, “I lack the strength that a man naturally has. So each morning I lift sacks of rock to toughen my arms and back to make me a better rider.”

“You’re stronger than any woman I know,” B’nard said as he slid his hands down from her shoulders, gripping her biceps. “And some men, too” he added. He felt her stiffen slightly but he forced his voice to be easy. Perhaps she regretted their shared immoderations of the previous night. He slid his hands down to hers then lifted them. “I, erm, I … I’m going down to the lower caverns for a breakfast.  Join me?”

“I think I will,” Mirrim smiled.  She dropped her hands to her sacks, hoisting them while passing B’nard back to her room.  “I’ll dress. You probably should too.”

B’nard became aware of his nakedness.  With a chuckle he jumped into his pool, dunked then waded to the other side to get out.  By the time he had dried himself and dressed, Mirrim was out by the dragons, fastening the straps to Path. He stepped up to her, tentatively.

“Mirrim?”

She regarded him frankly, “You have no fear of an attachment from me, B’nard.”  As she turned back to the belly strap, she continued, “We both had needs to satisfy. I enjoyed last night thoroughly but I expect no more of you than our original understanding.  Please stop this unease.”

B’nard let out a breath he was not aware he held. “Last night satisfied me greatly.  I was concerned that you.” He stopped. “Well if you, if you thought I’d changed this, erm, arrangement, but since you don’t. I guess I should get Mowalth’s straps. 

“Oh ride down with us.” Mirrim had held onto his arm.  “Please, B’nard, be easy.”

He wanted to embrace her at the same time run to Mowalth.  He hated his hesitation, especially as she watched his face. “ _Be easy, my love. Path’s rider feels easy._ ” Mowalth spoke to his mind. With a grimace, B’nard scrambled up Path’s back and Mirrim followed. Path glided to the side of the cavern opening.  She hopped back up to her shared weyr as the two riders joined the others entering the dining hall. He didn’t know what to make of Mirrim’s hearty appetite at breakfast; he had to force himself to eat.

That evening, after duties, the two soaked together in their shared bathing pool. They spoke of their respective wings, their dragons’ abilities and the recent changes to the regular wings since the newly fledged pairs had been assigned. Before B’nard stepped out he dunked under and resurfaced by Mirrim.

“Come to my weyr tonight?” he asked as he picked up her hand. She smiled easily and followed him to the steps on his side of the pool. Later, as they lay in each other’s arms, B’nard asked. “Do you no longer wait for T’gellan?”

“Huh?”  Mirrim disengaged her body from his arms and propped herself up on one elbow to study the outline of B’nard’s form.

“You heard me. I asked you about T’gellan.” B’nard propped up on one elbow too.

Mirrim reached back to the shielded glow basket, flicking the catch to fill the room with light. With some curtness she asked “Why do you think I wait for him?” 

“What I asked is if you no longer wait for him.”  B’nard lay back in the cot and stared at the ceiling of his room. “I know he’s with Talina at Eastern and I know you are going to love him for ever. But I have always thought, along with most of your brothers, that you are waiting for him. You said as much the other night.”

Mirrim made a disparaging sound in the back of her throat. “What line of interrogation is this, B’nard?  We have an understanding.”

“Oh, yeah, Mirrim, fall back on the understanding like it’s one of your hidebound rules. But we changed it last night. I have a right to know how you… what you will… I don’t want to be your substitute.” 

Mirrim’s face contorted from a scowl to incredulous surprise. “Substitute?! When I’m your substitute for Bagira? Do you hear me asking when you plan to stop longing for her?”

“Bagira is not part of this discussion. I can never have her; you know that.  She’s the Lady of Endyar Hold and mother to the heir and I am a Benden Dragonrider.”  The look of pain on B’nard’s face softened Mirrim, somewhat. She slid a finger along his cheek to his chin.

“Yes, Balarno is the first son of a first son. What Lady Balla was obliged to have in order to regain Endyar’s luck.” Mirrim replied with a giggle.

“Balarno is Bolard’s youngest and last since what you found in that threaded meadow is what remains of my brother and nephews.”

“It is physically impossible for Bolard to have fathered Balarno.” Mirrim stated flatly. “You fathered him.”

“How dare you suggest that I have dishonored my brother’s wife, I have never touched her.”

“Oh please stop your denial, B’nard. Balarno is proof that you have. Don’t look so shocked. Lady Balla is pleased that Balarno is the undisputed heir and the first son of the first son even if it’s only she and Bagira who know.”

“I never touched Bagira let alone fathered a child by her.” B’nard thought to get up and walk away but it was his bed.

Mirrim studied his face for a moment then said, “No, you have not. I see that now.  You have been the proper brother-in-law and guardian to Endyar.”  She moved closer to his face. “But you are going to father Balarno.”

B’nard sputtered and backed up until he fell out of the cot. “Impossible!” he cried. “I could not have! I’d never touch her in that way.”

Mirrim leaned over the edge of the cot and replied, “You already have as soon as you make the Time.”

“Stop smiling, you crazy woman.Your mind’s gone between!” B’nard broke down and cried. He blubbered that he had never timed it. As a rider in F’lar’s wing, he was under strict order; how could he defy a bronze rider’s order?

As he calmed down Mirrim continued, “For Bonogan and Lord Larad’s sake, Balla and Bagira will continue to claim Balarno is Holder Bolard’s only and last heir but they know what you did for Endyar, even if you have not done it yet. Bagira birthed Balarno at the end of the seventh month and Bolard left for Igen at the beginning of the tenth month in the previous turn. The interval is too long for Bolard to be Barno’s father. Only you had time for it.”

B’nard held his head in his hands and rocked back and forth on the floor. “Mirrim, I have no experience in timing.”

“ _I can take you anywhere and any when with only a reference.”_ Mowalth broadcasted to the two riders.

“I’m no expert on timing and the best rider I know who is adept is F’lessan...”

“Not the Weyrleader’s son!” B’nard interrupted. “We can’t ask him, Mnementh will know!”

“G’lenan has timed it. And, I know that Mowalth is correct, a reference is all the two of you need. Lessa used the lintels on Ruatha’s main hold door…”

B’nard interrupted again, “I can’t do a three-turn jump.”

“Be easy, B’nard. You already have.” Mirrim replied calmly. “I supposed this was what Lessa felt when she realized the question song was to her. All these clues were for me to tell you to jump.  We shouldn’t hurry this, you have time right now to figure out how to get you two back there and how to convince Bagira to go with you. You will have to tell her of Bolard and the boys’ fate.”

“Can you be sure that I return to this time?”

“We don’t know that until you jump. Come back into bed, B’nard. We will check the map room tomorrow. That’s where we start.” Mirrim scooted over as B’nard slid back into bed.  He pulled her close, embracing her absently.

“Ever since Bolard took Bagira to wife, I knew I would never have her but still I dreamed. I know Bolard sensed it. It’s why he told me not to come to Endyar after our father’s death. I don’t regret my life with Mowalth in Benden.  I accepted the fate of a dragon rider for the sacrifice and honor it is but now Fate will give her to me, if only for a night.”

“Well, Fate already has,” Mirrim sighed as she snuggled closer to him. “And Fate will need a boost.  You will have to stay with her at least two sevenday.”

“How can she be absent from the hold for that long?”

“Shells, B’nard, You’re going to time it two turns and ten months.” Mirrim laughed. “You can manage a few sevenday.” She paused in thought, brows furrowed. “Any of the islands would be too risky. I know,” she snapped her fingers, “Take her to Southern under the Dawn Sisters at Landing.  Nobody will be there yet.” She paused, sighed then continued. “When you return, you will have to tell me how you enticed her away from the hold and convinced her.”

“Oh, I have no idea how.”

“Relax, you have the confidence that you have already. You could ask her.”

“I don’t think I could look upon her now, knowing… and she already knows that we… I must look an insensitive fool to her. Oh Mirrim, how I will return to this time?”

“ _Have no doubt, my love. I will bring you to the woman and return us home to Path. Listen to Path’s rider; she wants us safely back._ ”

With his dragon calming his mind and the woman easing the tenseness in his body, B’nard fell into a deep, comfortable sleep. An unease since his father died loosened. 

B’nard was loathed to ask Bagira anything of their tryst and was too abashed to ask any of the others at Endyar for circumstances that would allow him to spirit her away.  He began to feel that all of them knew but him.

It was Mirrim who asked F’lessen for how to plan a long jump. Mirrim had already spent a lot of free time in the map rooms since her first visit to Endyar.  She knew the dates that thread fell on that meadow in Southern Telgar Mountains. Three days after that particular threadfall, Belior passed in front of Timor at aphelion for the first time in 76 turns. B’nard had found her staring blankly at the wall of the map room when she hadn’t joined him for dinner. The last day she calculated the moons’ paths was within a sevenday of when Balarno must have been conceived. That day was the beginning of end of her life with T’gellan. That she now knew how to calculate the next time the moons would swap orbits was no longer of any use to her. There was nobody to tell. But, it would be B’nard’s map back to his beloved Bagira.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anybody knows the name of Lord Bergamon's Lady in Nerat, please let me know. I searched the books to never find her mentioned.


	27. A Reunion Of Sorts

Ruth popped above the new jetty on the Eastern side of MonacoBay. As he spiraled down to the ground with Jaxom, Sharra and their son Jarrol, Menolly waved from the beach. She sat on a block of wood with Sebell who had Robse on his lap. “What do you suppose this little winter gather is about?” She turned toward her husband.

He shrugged and continued bouncing his son, enjoying the warmth of the day. Ruth had lifted then dove into the clear waters surfacing several feet further away. A faire of wild fire lizards joined Menolly’s above Ruth then began diving around him. Jaxom carried a squirming Jarrol while Sharra trailed behind. “Oh, I haven’t felt real heat in five months,” she puffed as she plopped next to Menolly. “So, our hosts? Where are they?”

“Talina dropped us here then flew past that break in the cliffs to fetch T’gellan,” Sebel said while making faces at his gurgling son. “I thought we’d get a tour of Eastern first but perhaps she’s left that duty to him.”

A laden green dragon followed by Arwith soared over the saddle. The green landed adjacent to the group while Arwith landed further down the beach. She leapt to the air and planed into the water close to Ruth who trumpeted a greeting. Three people jumped from the green dragon and began setting up an awning and table. From a large basket, they set up plates, cutlery and food. They paid no heed to the auspicious assembly.

Talina, toting Tallan, walked up the beach. Her dress was a light shift with a corded collar and belt of bright green and yellow. Her hair was smoothed back in a low ponytail. “Sorry to leave you so long. T’gellan will be along soon.”

“Not to worry, Lady Talina,” Jaxom said while executing a formal bow. “We are quite content to sit in warm sand with the sun on our backs.

“Thank you my Lord Jaxom,” she replied while letting go of Tallan’s hand. The boy took the opportunity to bow slightly to the ensemble then ran down to the beach.

“I am so pleased that you joined us today. I needed to give T’gellan a respite from his constant work to build Eastern Weyr. I don’t think he has stopped this last turn and a half. He will be so glad to see his friends and he will just have to rest.”

Sebel looked at Menolly with barely contained mirth. He rubbed under his chin and she replied with a flick to her earlobe in natural Harper gestures. Both of them had agreed that Talina was up to something that she hadn’t really thought through. Beauty, on Menolly’s shoulder, sat up, chirped once and cocked her head. Both Harpers looked straight up.

T’gellan and Monarth popped into the air close enough to the impromptu gathering that the blast of cold between made goose bumps rise on Menolly’s arms. The man on the bronze looked harsh until he recognized the people assembled then she heard his booming laugh. Monarth pivoted to land at the shoreline raising a foreleg that T’gellan used to step onto dry ground with the riding straps dangling over his shoulder. He quickly stripped his riding gear as Talina nimbly dashed to his side with lighter clothing. She dutifully took his gear and held up a towel for her Weyrleader’s dignity, not, to Menolly’s trained eyes, that T’gellan thought of such proprieties.

Instead of taking the clothing, he turned toward the water and entered, diving under once the water reached his waist. Jaxom and Sebel, eager to join T’gellan, passed their sons to wives, ran toward the waves stripping off clothing.

”Leaders of Pern, bare bathing in southern waters for all to see,” quipped Sharra.

“There may be a song to that,” Menolly chuckled.

“Oh don’t you dare,” Sharra responded. “Your tunes are so catchy all of Pern will sing them in their sleep.”

“Yes, you made the ‘Lady Green Rider’ too catchy. It’s requested almost as often as the Fire Lizard Queen’s song,” said Talina as she rejoined the women and children. She had left the clothing at the shoreline. As she seated herself, she continued, “Perhaps you can apply a catchy tune to your first visit to Eastern.”

“Perhaps,” Menolly demurred. “Shall we help set up the meal?”

Both Harper and Holder began to stand when the Weyrwoman flicked the fingers of her left hand and said dismissively, “They will call to us when it is ready.”

Sharra and Menolly exchanged bemused glances. “ _Oh, Sebel would have enjoyed that gesture_ ,” Menolly thought.

About the time the men walked up the incline from the shore, a young woman, wearing a journeyman stonemason’s knot approached Talina with practiced deference. The party followed the woman to the table under the awning where a spread of meats, breads and oversized tubers and redfruits were displayed.

“Ah yes, good!” T’gellan exclaimed. “See the size of the tubers Sebel? Jaxom? These were grown from Andemon’s seed in our Eastern soil. Is the bread from our own grain, Talina?”

Talina looked dumbfounded at her Weyrleader while quietly the journeywoman stonemason replied, “Aye Weyrleader, some of the first fall crop milled.”

“Thank you, Molly,” T’gellan beamed. “Journeywoman Molina is the stonemason who set the grinding stone at our mill over on the other side of the saddle. When we tour the Weyr, you will definitely see it. Between her and one of Fandarel’s smiths, we have rigged it so that it can run it on air or water power.”

The woman bowed to the ensemble then exited quietly.

They ate the tasty meal as T’gellan continued to extol the accomplishments of his people and express his eagerness to show his friends Eastern Weyr. He praised the new fiber being weaved into cloth at the looms, the fertile ground that already supported the Weyr, the plains to the west teaming with herds of animals, the weyrling barracks already boasting its second group of weyrlings. “We now have nine women green riders too.” He added after listing the ranks of his dragonforce.

“Speaking of women green riders, I am surprised that Mirrim has not come to Eastern yet.” Menolly spoke up.

“No” T’gellan said pleasantly.

“Not even for a visit?” Sebel asked.

“She’s too busy at Benden flying thread and the blues and a brown or two, I’ve heard.” Talina quipped as she rose to clear plates. A young woman ran up from the brazier to take them from her then scurried back. Menolly noticed the slight crease in T’gellan’s forehead and Talina’s stiffening shoulders.

“Growing up in Southern Weyr, Mirrim would be an asset.” Sharra added conversationally. “I knew her when she lived at Southern. I remember when turns later she appeared at Toric’s Hall demanding the best healer for firehead then she said that was me. I came forward with my satchel and backpack ready to help but Toric told her to get out of his Hold.”

“I didn’t know that.” Jaxom leaned forward.

“She then said she’d call upon Ramoth and then he could deny Lessa, the care of a healer for her heir to Ruatha. Then she grabbed me by the arm and practically threw me on Path.”

“Mirrim always knew how to take over in a crisis.” Menolly said.

“She takes over whenever she can.” Talina added.

“But, Mirrim wasn’t at Cove when I woke.” Jaxom looked at his wife curiously.

“No,” Sharra replied looking to the sky trying to recall the memory. “Brekke sent her back to Benden Weyr pretty soon after we got the shelter built. Path came with a few supply runs then the duty fell to other riders.”

Jaxom shrugged, “Wonder why.”

“Her randy Green, no doubt.” Talina mumbled. Menolly looked at Sebel. He returned her gaze and both raised their eyebrows briefly and she nodded while he shrugged.

“I used to not care for her.” Sharra added while leaning back against Jaxom. “We studied together under Goren when Brekke and her were still at Southern Weyr. She was horribly competitive. Then, we sat our journeyman exams with Oldive at Fort about a turn after she impressed Path.”

T’gellan, who had been quiet since the subject had turned to Mirrim, became suddenly animated. “I remember that. We were weyrmates at the time. She’d fall asleep studying.”

“You were werymates? What does that mean? You didn’t impress at the same time.” Sharra looked toward T’gellan.

“No, you’re thinking of hatchmates, that’s impression from the same clutch.” T’gellan answered.

“Jaxom and I are hatchmates,” interjected Talina but nobody paid attention.

“Mirrim and I shared a weyr. I was a Benden Wingleader at the time. I didn’t realize that you were one of the other candidates from the Healer Hall. Mirrim never mentioned that you two grew up together.” T’gellan continues as if Talina hadn’t spoken.

Sharra looked at T’gellan with curiosity. Her old rival was once the lover of a bronze rider. She felt a sudden warmth for him. “Mirrim was always the better at diagnosis but I’d like to think I was better at the patient’s bedside.”

“No doubt you are.” T’gellan replied with a chortle.

“I can vouch for that.” Jaxom added. “Did you know that Wansor confirmed Mirrim’s theory about Belior and Timor?  I mean besides the swap in orbit. Her calculations proved to be the most accurate.”

Menolly suddenly laughed. She had forgotten Robinton’s cross-craft training and the rivalries. “I wonder how Benalek took that news.”

Jaxom laughed as well. “The proof was in the tidal maps at the building excavated at MonacoBay. Benalek was the one to realize that the calculations were relative to the moons’ gravitational pull and Wansor confirmed them.”

“Oh yes, that’s right,” Menolly turned toward Jaxom. “Something Yanus of Half-Circle always knew but not how to calculate. He called the moons quarrelling sisters.”

Jaxom looked directly at Menolly and smirked, “Think Mirrim knows?”

“She’d have no use for it as a green rider,” Talina said a bit too loudly.

“You should invite Mirrim down if only to see Eastern, Talina.” Sebel suggested. Menolly watched Talina and T’gellan’s reaction, noting the discord. When she looked back to her husband, Sebel merely blinked.

Menolly felt that she’d better defend Mirrim since T’gellan couldn’t. “Mirrim was my first true friend; the two of us have a lot in common. I was the first woman harper in remembered history; she was the first woman green rider. I should send Beauty to her with a note. I can’t remember the last time Reppa popped in.”

“Fire lizards! What a nuisance,” Talina said under her breath.

T’gellan stood abruptly. “A tour, who wants a tour?”

Jaxom and Sebel rose. Menolly looked at her baby asleep on a blanket under the awning.

“Oh, go ahead, Menolly,” Sharra waved her off. “I’m content to sit here with the babes. I was walked all over this sprawling complex at the first hatching.”

“All the more reason to join us,” T’gellan said. “We have built so much more.”

“All the more reason for me to stay put,” Sharra replied.”I am entering my seventh month with this little kicker,” she added while patting her protruding belly.

T’gellan bowed slightly toward Sharra then beckoned to the others to join him. They walked toward a ramp that switched back on itself twice before it reached the top of the bank as they disappeared above the incline. Sharra leaned back in the wooden chair that had been set by the blanket with two sleeping children. Bronze Meer and Brown Talla swooped under the awning and nestled at the foot and head of the slumbering Jarrol.

She felt somebody’s gaze upon her and was surprised that Talina was still in front of her.

“Please don’t feel you must remain with me, Weyrwoman. I am quite content with the solitude.”

“Oh,” Talina replied. “Well then, we shall not disturb you.” She turned to the three women who were rapidly breaking down the gear and packing the saddles on the green dragon. “Molina, leave that chair and the awning. Cana, take the table. Be quiet about it. Lania, stay with the babies.” She turned smartly toward the ramp.

###

T’gellan returned Sebel, Robse and Menolly to the Harper Hall at Fort. It was still early afternoon and even though Sebel was begging for T’gellan to stay at least for some klah, if not wine, T’gellan was insistent. It was night at Eastern and he was tired.

As Monarth popped out, Menolly took Sebel’s hand. They walked up the hill to the Hall. “My opinion of Talina was never that high to begin with,” Menolly said. “She did nothing to improve it today.”

Sebel gave her hand a squeeze as he shifted the sleeping baby in his other arm. “I thought Fanna was an idiot. I can’t deduce what Talina was trying to accomplish today.”

“T’gellan was happy to visit with us. Perhaps Talina was genuinely trying to get him to relax.” but both harpers laughed at her absurd statement.

Silvina met them at the entryway of the hall, deftly removing the baby from Sebel while handing him a scroll. “Lord Groghe’s golden dropped that off a bit past noon.” You’d best go directly, Masterharper.”

Menolly released Sebel’s hand and continued behind the Harper Hall’s Headwoman as her husband turned back the way they had just come. “Poor T’gellan,” she thought.

###

When T’gellan returned to Eastern, he asked Monarth to drop him in front of the showers. He hoped a spare towel was available so that he could wrap it about himself to return to his weyr across the complex. Turning a glow to shine inside the opening, he proceeded to the men’s side where, thankfully a towel was available. He didn’t wash as much as he simply let the hot, bubbly water run over his body. The morning had been spent with several bronzes moving boulders for more dragon wallows and weyrs. He was sore and expected to spend the remainder of his restday relaxing.

Then Talina had insisted, via Arwith, of her desperate need of them at the protrusion of land that marked the northernmost border of the weyr. She had even used Tallan as a reason why he must attend to her. Well, Jaxom, Sebel, their wives and sons had been an especially pleasant diversion but when he directed Monarth to the shore he caught a glimpse of their own son tearing down the beach to obtain as much distance from his mother as possible. T’gellan wanted to join his son.

Once he was at the water line he realized how smelly and grimy he was.  Not ready to stomach Talina with an audience, especially one with two Masterharpers he figured a dunk in the cool sea would return some of his steadiness.

He needed to shave. He needed to rest. He needed to sleep but she was going to be in his weyr. That restday agreement she had finagled out of him the morning after Nerat Gather was haunting him again. T’gellan stepped away from the water flow and wrapped the towel around his waist.  It was full night when he exited the shower house.  Belior was preceding Timor high across the night sky. Both moons were waxing, about three quarters to being full. He remembered one night in Benden when he and Mirrim had been soaking and she explain why tides were more pronounced in cycles which had something to do with whether Belior was in front of or behind Timor. He never did fully understand what she was explaining but he knew it to be true.

T’gellan was passing by Monarth who was sound asleep in his wallow beside their weyr. He ran his hand along Monarth’s spine until it curved away from the path. “ _I hope Mirrim knows she was right and Benalek was wrong._ ” He thought toward Monarth.  By now he was used to no response from his dragon whenever he mentioned Mirrim’s name. With a sigh, he entered his weyr to face Talina. 

Glowlight emanated from under the curtain that separated the council room from his bedchamber.  No, she would have stayed awake tonight.  He slid by the curtain to find her dozing in a chair she had moved in front of the bed. He decided to crawl from the bottom of the cot and was beginning to think he could nestle in without Talina waking but it was not to be.

“You just had to talk about _her_ today didn’t you!” Talina had crawled onto his cot. “I thought we had an agreement about that particular rider.”

“You invite her childhood friend and two fellow cross-training students to Eastern. What did you expect?”

“I went to great lengths to prepare a relaxing restday for you with who I thought were your friends; not hers.” Talina shoved his shoulder.

“You want me to relax then let me sleep, woman.”

“I am trying, T’gellan. I have done all that I know to be what you asked me to be as the Weyrwoman and I get no help from you. None at all and then you have to talk about Mirrim the green rider like I wasn’t even there today. You promised me.”

T’gellan sat up in the bed and pushed Talina to the floor. “Don’t you accuse me of breaking a promise at any instance of Mirrim’s name getting mentioned. You’re the one cracking your eggs.  You brought this latest incident upon yourself. I promised not to bring her to Eastern.  Have you seen her here?”

Talina scrambled from the floor back into the bed. “I know she is still on your mind and you think about her all the time.”

T’gellan pushed her back out of the bed. “Mirrim was part of my life for twelve turns and you are an idiot. Since coming to Eastern, I have not even seen her let alone talk with her and all I agreed to was not to invite her to Eastern. I’ve kept my promise.” With another shove, Talina was back on the floor.

“You danced with her at Nerat Gather.”

“That woman is a kinswoman of Blue Mowalth’s rider, B’nard, and a very good dancer.”

“But you thought it was Mirrim. Mirrim is B’nard’s weyremate. You thought you were cutting in on them dancing.” Talina rose from the floor intent on getting back into the bed.

“Don’t get back in this bed or I will punch you.”

Talina hesitated “Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“I don’t care. You are not getting back onto this cot without consequences. I want you out of this weyr completely. Forget our Nerat Gather pact. I deserve my rest and I’m not going to get any ‘til you are out of here.”

“T’gellan, we have to look united. Don’t make me leave.”

“There’s not a person on either side of the saddle who thinks we’re united.”

“You kick me out and I promise you that another bronze will fly Arwith the next time she rises.”

Arwith suddenly woke and keened. She was answered by several lesser dragons but not one golden or bronze dragon responded.

“Hear what you’ve done, T’gellan? Arwith is upset.”

T’gellan rose from his bed with one hand balled into a fist. “Go to your queen and calm her and don’t come back.”

She ran from the room sobbing.

T’gellan slept well.


	28. Ground Shakes

“ _Wake! Wake! Monarth’s rider, Wake NOW!_ ”

Disoriented, T’gellan woke from a sound sleep, “Mirrim?”

The dim light around his shuttered window indicated pre-dawn. “ _Wake Now! Save my rider._ ” It was followed by a keen that surely woke the rest of the weyr. T’gellan jumped from his cot, threw on his shorts and bolted through the bedchamber. He slid over the long table in his front room rather than take the time to run around it. He was out his door and on the familiar path to the saddle when he realized that the terror, so incongruous with the calm, predawn morning, was emanating from Arwith who was landing and lifting from the saddle in agitation.

The watch dragon roused and keened; his rider suddenly awake and unable to calm his beast. T’gellan passed through the opening to Talina’s weyr. She was sleeping serenely on her cot. He pulled her with her sleeping furs and hoisted her over his back as he exited the cave. At first, Talina bawled imperiously, beating his back with impotent fists as he ran back out. Then she realized Arwith’s agitation and began shrieking. He put her on her feet.

With a quick slap across her face, T’gellan commanded, “Woman, control your dragon!” He sprinted to the other side of the saddle where the wide low opening of the infirmary was filling up with bewildered faces. “Get out! Get out now.” T’gellan yelled not certain whether he was commanding or simply being the human voice for several dragons that had awakened in alarm.

He dashed into the shallow cave to grab one end of a stretcher that Tendyr was shoving a brown rider onto. They lugged it to the opening. Wendel was dumping the apothecary into another stretcher when T’gellan returned. “Leave it man. We have to get to the open.” Wendel sputtered a protest but T’gellan already had him by the arm, pulling him to the opening.

As soon as the last of them were on the saddle, a horrendous sound permeated the air, but if felt like it rose through their feet. Next, the ground began a tremble which ended with a terrific jarring that knocked people to their knees. The infirmary behind T’gellan collapsed behind a shower of rocks. Talina had been picked up by Arwith and was aloft. Then, T’gellan realized that all dragons and riders were airborne. He searched for his own dragon to find him in the air as well. The protected bay was choppy with what looked like fish jumping into the air.

“ _I can’t come to you, rider. Not while the ground swims_.” Monarth said plaintively from his height.

“It’s a ground shake. This part of the southern continent is known for them,” T’gellan said aloud for his people nearby but he meant to assure Monarth. He looked about himself feeling bewildered at first. “ _Monarth, is that Bleth and his rider below you?_ ” Immediately, T’gellan could see the burly man below him through Monarth’s eyes. His tanned back was bare as he was wearing only shorts. “ _Tell Bleth to fly G’nareth to Landing. Tell them that I need an assessment of Landing and if they suffered any damage. They are to report back to either you or K’lomar’s Keith._ ”

His sight returned in time to see the blue dragon above him veer north. G’nareth knew better than to go between wearing only shorts. It would take a good 15 minutes to fly to Landing. Looking for the bronzes he spotted F'nton on Ioth circling with H'rogan on Trebenath on the river side. “ _What does Ioth see?_ ” he asked Monarth.

“ _Trebenath says that trees are sideways in the river._ ”

“ _Are either Ioth or Trebenath’s riders wearing riding gear?_ ” T’gellan asked.

“ _Ioth’s rider wears gear._ ”

T’gellan nodded while he watched both bronze dragons circle lower to the south. “ _Tell F’nton and Ioth to go to Cove Hold first then_ _Paradise_ _to check for damages. Tell F’nton to tell the healer at Cove that Eastern lost the infirmary and all supplies._ ” With grim satisfaction he watched the larger bronze pop out.

Wendel tapped T’gellan on the arm. “We’ve lost our infirmary and we’re bound to have injuries.”

“Yes, Wendel. Can you and Tendyr set up an emergency infirmary here at the saddle?” T’gellan directed his gaze at the healer who was shaking. T’gellan grabbed him by the shoulders. “Breathe, man! The Weyr needs you.”

“If you hadn’t pulled me out, if I had tried to drag out those supplies, I’d be crushed under that mountain.” Wendel’s pale blue eyes searched T’gellan when he drew a deep breath. “We have lost all our supplies, our beds, our instruments.”

“I sent F’nton to Cove Hold for healer supplies. The rest of Pern still sleeps. Will the saddle do for an emergency infirmary? Our Weyrfolk will come here, regardless.” Wendel nodded and stepped away, keen for activity.

T’gellan returned his gaze to the sky looking for riders wearing gear to send for help between. He asked Monarth to tell Trebenath that his wing needed to fly the length and breadth of Eastern looking for damages and casualties. Directing his gaze to Arwith who was still dangling her rider, he told her to land. “ _Arwith, tell Talina that she must organize food and klah._ ”

Monarth answered, “ _Arwith says her rider is bare._ ” T’gellan looked up at the great fore claws clutching the fur-wrapped woman.

“ _Tell Arwith to set her down by me,_ ” T’gellan answered. Arwith barely touched the ground and quickly deposited her rider, then alighted. He helped Talina up, fixing the fur around her shoulders as she gathered the part that dragged.

She quickly turned toward her cave but only made one step before T’gellan grabbed her shoulder. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Talina turned toward him, looking up at him and simply said, “I’m naked; I need to get one of my gowns.”

“You can’t go into your weyr; part of it collapsed. Besides, you’re more clothed in that rug than most of the people on the saddle.”

“The Weyrwoman cannot walk around wrapped in only a fur,” she replied as she yanked away and made a dash for her cave.

T’gellan was upon her in a few steps. Gesturing to the pile of rocks and darkened entrance still hazy with dust, he continued, “Don’t be stupid. You’re not under that rubble because Arwith woke me from a dead sleep to pull you out.” Talina lost focus as Arwith rumbled. The golden Arwith had never spoken directly to T’gellan until this morning and was not now, so he couldn’t hear what she said to her rider. Talina faced him, lips trembling and tears filling her striking black eyes. She heaved a great sob as he held her to him.

“We’re alive. We are alive, Talina, and we need to be leaders right now. I need you to organize food and drink for our people. You don’t need a gown for that. Get down to the kitchen, determine its condition and relay what it can serve and what it needs and tell Arwith to tell Monarth or one of the other queens. Can you do that?” He pushed her back and leaned down to look into her eyes. She regarded him, childlike then nodded.

He turned his attention away from her. She trudged down the slope toward the river where the kitchen and dining hall that fed the entire Eastern Complex was situated. Every few steps she looked back at him then at the entrance to her weyr. T’gellan was already organizing people who naturally drifted to the saddle that separated the sea side from the river.

By the time Pern’s sun was at its highest over Eastern, a tolerable infirmary had been built on the saddle. Most injuries were cuts and bruises and a few broken bones. A few people were grievously injured but not one death, even as more people were pulled from rubble that had been their homes. The most pressing problem was water. The existing wells produced fizzy, silt-filled water, unsuitable for drinking or washing. The protected bay’s water level dropped significantly then rose to inundate the beaches then settled back to normal but few people noticed. The logjam in the river bend was causing flooding upriver. Most of the bronzes had surveyed from their heights the build up behind the logjam. They dreaded a spontaneous burst of roiling water to flood the complex where their main food supply and kitchen were located. That people were still freeing the trapped from their homes in the same area also concerned them.

Once the last of the kitchen workers were accounted for, T’gellan directed P’wer’s wing to take as much of the food, supplies and gear to higher ground. Then he directed riders and dragons to remove the huge trunks, dead beasts and brambles of debris choking the water flow. But they couldn’t control the pent up water when it finally did find a way through the debris. In torrents it rushed downward, tearing out the stone bridge and taking the rubble of buildings, byres and stone barriers downriver. People and live animals were out of harm’s way but not what the non-riding Weyrfolk had built or brought with them. Umoal held Mauuda as she wept. Her sister Darilda had stood beside them, dry eyed, while the muddy waters, filled with debris, swept over the banks and up into the complex. She began to walk toward the edge of the rending water. One of S'form riders grabbed her to pull her back.

As each Northern Weyr heard of the shaker, they sent riders and supplies to help. Several miners, direct from Master Nicat’s Hall, arrived by early afternoon. Landing was used as a staging area for emergency supplies. Further from the epicenter, it had not suffered as much destruction. Some of the workers stationed at Landing were actually excited about a split in the ground. The roofs of the stone weyrs on the seaside of Eastern had mostly survived. Most riders were woken by Arwith’s warning and were aloft by the time the trembler shook the ground.

Delianna made both T’gellan and K’lomar stop for some klah and meatrolls after Ista sent a complete kitchen, including workers. Volkona worked to find her dazed and confused Weyrfolk places to stay. Walking with the masterminers, she used some of the blue dyes from the Weaverhall to mark buildings that were safe to house people. She used the precious red dyes to mark the ones too unstable to enter.

One Masterminer, at Talina’s behest, evaluated her cave and announced it sound enough for her items to be removed but to wait before returning to it, in case of aftershocks.

By the time the sun had sunk, plunging Eastern weyr into darkness, several bonfires had been set about the saddle. Benden, High Reaches and Telgar riders huddled with their Eastern brethren. Eastern bronze riders grouped together apart from the rest, speaking in low voices. Umoal and Mauuda brought them some Benden wine and stew while Volkona and Delianna made certain that each group received some of the food prepared by the Istans. Talina, who had spent most of the day moving supplies and possessions to higher ground, took the time to clean herself up before approaching the Istans where she remained, stirring the stew pot and shaking her head to some internal conversation.

S’bald sat next to G’nareth by the fire waving his booted feet to the flames. He had been assigned to walk the banks after the rush of water subsided. He was damp and did not cherish the thought of going between to his Benden bed, thus he volunteered to stay for first watch “I would not have expected that it’d get as cold as this when the sun set,” he said conversationally.

G’nareth grunted.

D’wer regarded the grizzled blue rider with compassion. “Did your weyr survive, G’nareth?”

“Aye,” the old man said after a few moments. “I suppose I should go to my shelter seeings as I still have one.”

S’bald nudged him, “Most of your riders’ weyrs survived the shake. I like the shape and size of them.”

“It took some getting used to no cave for a weyr.” G’nareth replied after a few moments of silence. “Bleth took to open sand wallows like he’d never curled up on a stone couch. He actually stuck his snout into the door to rouse me this morning before the shake hit.”

D’wer leaned forward, “What’d it feel like? Solid ground moving?”

“I was aloft,” G’nareth leaned back. “Bleth, my blue, he took me up when Arwith gave the alarm.”

“Aye,” replied L’kent, a green rider of P’wer’s wing. “I think the only rider on the ground was T’gellan. He saved the people in the infirmary.” he gestured behind him where rubble covered the old opening. The low cave that had served as the infirmary was crushed. The flames of the bonfires caused the rocks’ shadows to undulate against the uneven tumble. A few of the Eastern riders shuddered.

One of Eastern’s kitchen aides, Polamia, sighed heavily while cradling the cast on her broken arm. “It was a helpless feeling. I was preparing klah at dawn when I saw Arwith jumping on the saddle. I called to the other women and we watched her from the edge of the open hall. Then, a sound like no dragon or harper’d make came from behind us. Next thing I know I am on the ground with the roof on me. Lania and Talina pulled me out.” She shuddered. G’nareth moved to her one side while S’bald to her other. She began to cry, “Now it’s gone, washed away. If they hadn’t seen me, the river flood would have drowned me.”

“When you called the rest of the women to the edge of the dining hall, Pola,” G’nareth crooned as he put his arm about her shoulder, “you saved them.”

“Aye,” L’kent echoed with other Eastern riders. “The only stone building that collapsed completely was the mess hall and all of you were found on the edge with only wood and mortar on you. We managed to get everyone to safety by the time the logjams were cleared.”

“But we have no mess hall. We lost our kitchen and most of our stores for winter.” Polamia shook. “What are we to do in the next few months?”

“We will rebuild,” a voice came from the darkness. T’gellan stood tall at the edge of the firelight, a stick in hand and a skin of wine slung over one shoulder. “We have suffered only a loss of supplies, Pola.” He kneeled on the other side of S’bald. He grinned at the group as he sat. He held up the skin. “Good Benden wine, this,” he said as he took a swig then handed the skin to S’bald. With the stick he jabbed it into the driftlogs making sparks swirl up to the darkness. “Polania, you have been awake since dawn. A good sleep is what you need. Some of these riders are returning to their weyrs and have invited any of Eastern’s Weyrfolk to stay a night with baths and sleep in solid caves. Will you stay the night in your home or take respite with the offers of Igen or Benden?”

“I thank you T’gellan, I will stay here but I believe that I will stay in the open,” Polania replied, ducking her head.

S’bald regarded the Eastern Weyrleader. T’gellan must have aged ten turns in one day, it seemed. His face was dirty and he needed a shave. Small cuts had scabbed over on his tanned arms and muscular legs. The shorts he wore were spattered with dried mud. Pretty much all of the people around the bonfire were grimy but T’gellan looked haggard.

Talina approached the group, her deep blue dress was ripped along the hem and showed dirt stains but her hair was neatly braided and her face was recently washed. The way she moved made S’bald think of Lessa. She stood by T’gellan’s left side, “Come, Weyrleader, you need to rest too.”

T’gellan rose tossing his stick into the fire. “Yes, tomorrow will bring us a new set of worries.” He addressed the remaining people around the fading fire, “I am grateful to you, Benden, Telgar and High Reaches riders. Thanks to your vigil, our people can sleep tonight.” He gave the deferential salute with a slight bow which Talina mimicked with a deeper bow. They turned together, arm in arm, walking to his weyr.

Monarth and Arwith were coiled upon each other in his wallow of sand beside T’gellan’s stone hut. Both seemed sound asleep. Talina slid her hand along their hides until Arwith’s snout was under her fingers. Both Weyrleaders stopped to caress the queen.

“ _Thank you for waking me, great golden Arwith,_ ” T’gellan thought toward the golden dragon. His stature allowed his hand to slide further up her snout. Her low purr of pleasure belied her drowsy state. Although she didn’t reply he felt her response when one yellowy green eye glittered from under the second lid of her great eye. She closed it and heaved a whistling sigh. They entered his hut.

The great table in the front room had been put on its side so that as many holder and weyr children could fit. There were several sets of fire lizard eyes glowing a yellowy green as they picked their way past the sleeping forms into his room.

Although he expected more sleeping Weyrfolk, the room was empty. Talina kicked off her sandals, pulled her dress and underclothes off then crawled onto his cot and curled under his blanket. By the time he undressed and placed his vest, shorts and boots on his press, he was sure he’d fall into a deep sleep.

He was exhausted but sleep still eluded him. Talina’s soft measured breaths meant that she had found rest. Her show of putting him to bed in front of all the Weyr probably did them some good as far as perception that they were a united leadership. He wondered if either Volkona or Delianna put the idea to her of if she thought of it herself. The Benden, Telgar and High Reaches riders could be fooled but not their own people. It was a nice touch.

For the first time since the earthquake, T’gellan had time to remember the abrupt waking from what had been an odd dream. He was a child in Southern. He had walked from the women who were harvesting the numbweed in the marshes into the tall grasses then could not find his way back although he could hear the women’s voices. He called to his foster mother and Brekke replied. She kept asking him to forgive her and he asked her to come find him. She continued to entreat him for pardon until her voice became frantic. Then Arwith woke him.

About a seven-day after the groundshake, when the Easterners were beginning to feel assured that they would persist, Darilda jumped from the recently rebuilt bridge. Before anybody could pull her from the river she drowned. While Umoal was inconsolable, Mauuda accepted her daughter’s suicide as anticipated. A pall settled over Eastern.

###

It was evening. T’gellan strolled down the newly laid stone walkway to the repaired bridge. He was surprised to see a lone figure on the bridge. A momentary dread filled his mind at the specter until he recognized his daughter. Lania was at the middle of the bridge’s span throwing flowers into the current. He was annoyed at first but he saw her tearstained face in the rising moons. He approached her gingerly. “Lania,” he called as he stepped onto the bridge, “come away from here and back up to the saddle.”

Lania shook her head. “I needed a bit of time alone, T’gellan. Please don’t concern yourself.“

He stepped beside her then leaned against the cool, damp stone wall. “I was hoping for a bit of solitude myself but I must admit I am glad for your company.” He slid his arm over her shoulder, leaning in to kiss the top of her head. “Since becoming Eastern’s Weyrleader, I hardly see you any more, let alone talk with you. I miss our breaking fasts. Alamia usually made certain we started most days together.”

Lania leaned into her father and began to sob. T’gellan pulled her into his chest and caressed her head and back as she cried. He crooned encouragement for her to cry herself out. It seemed that a lot of Weyrfolk cried easily these days, especially since Darilda plunged off the bridge.

Lania quieted then pulled back with a labored sigh. “I don’t know how to feel about Darilda, T’gellan. Why would she…” She gestured to the gurgling waters below them then hung her head.

T’gellan turned toward the rushing water. With a wave to the currents he replied, “Mauuda said that watching her husband, father and brothers get killed took too much of Darilda’s mind. Like a dragon that loses his rider, she couldn’t find reason to live.”

Lania tossed the last of the flowers into the water. “She was the only one who didn’t call out when we were pulling rubble off people. I found her and when I told her she was sound she said she was unlucky and to leave her. But I couldn’t leave her like she wanted.”

Lania sniffed a few times while T’gellan simply nodded his head in the growing silence. She burst out “I want to go home, Da! I want to go back to Benden,” then began crying anew.

T’gellan let her cry again as she tried to explain her wretchedness. She existed at Talina’s pleasure. That she had wanted to remain at Benden almost two turns ago but Talina had coerced her, using T’gellan and Tallan as inducement. As she continued, T’gellan realized, with growing fury, the Weyrwoman’s misuse of the girl. When Lania told of being pestered into entering Talina’s weyr for her gowns mere hours after the groundshake, T’gellan cursed.

In fear Lania tried to refute her tearful confession but T’gellan cut her short. Taking Lania’s face in his roughened hands he shushed her, “I will take you back to Benden tonight.”

“No, I didn’t mean it, T’gellan. I can’t leave Tallan to her.” Lania appealed.

“I had been thinking that Tallan needed to be fostered away from his parents at Eastern anyway and I know he adores you. I will take the both of you back tonight. Go pack your and Tallan’s belongings.” T’gellan said in soothing tones. He kissed the top of her head again. “Let’s go.”

Taking his daughter’s hand the two of them walked to one of the temporary shelters which Lania ducked into. She returned with two sets of riding gear slung over her arm and dragging a fur tied around a bundle of items. T’gellan hoisted the bundle to his back. They continued walking up the new path to another temporary shelter where Stoluan, the caretaker of children sat at the entrance. “We’ve come for Tallan,” T’gellan said.

Stoluan nodded to Lania who dropped the gear and entered. A few moments later, Tallan, rubbing his eyes, stumbled behind Lania. She handed him his riding gear and the boy immediately brightened. “We go to ride Monarth, T’gellan?”

“That we do m’boy. Say farewell to Stoluan.” The boy put his arms out for Stoluan to grasp. She looked to T’gellan with sudden realization.

“This is a good thing you do for them, Weyrleader.” She said in a low, quavering voice. “I shall miss you, Lania.”

The three picked up gear and belongings and continued over the saddle. People were still setting by bonfires or milling about on the saddle. Some waved or nodded in greeting. Monarth was in front of T’gellan’s weyr, waiting. T’gellan quickly got his gear and conveyance straps. He secured the children’s bundle behind Lania who had put Tallan in front of her. With a silent request to Monarth the four rose with two full moons a span above the horizon. Abruptly they disappeared into nothingness then a blazing Benden sunset greeted them.

“ _Monarth of Eastern._ ” The bronze dragon announced with a bellow. He spiraled lazily into the bowl. When he landed, he looked not up to the high weyr behind them but forward to one midway up where a green dragon greeted him with a warble. She launched to the bowl’s rim. T’gellan noted the blue dragon whose head popped out next looking first up then down, directly at him. He had the children dismount then he pulled the bundles and straps off Monarth who barely waited to launch to the rim.

“C’mon, T’gellan ushered the children forward to the lower caverns. They had arrived in the midst of dinner. Willa was the first to react. She looked first at T’gellan’s face then to Lania. She quickly summoned a young boy to run to the kitchens then approached the trio. “Greetings Eastern, will you stay to dinner?” She said with a formal curtsy.

T’gellan pulled her into a warm embrace and laughed. “Ah, Willa, how good it is to look upon you. I am here on a domestic matter.” He gestured to Lania and Tallan.

Willa caressed Lania cheek then patted Tallan on the head while motioning to Manora and Sanra. “You are practically a woman, Lania. Tallan you have grown so!”

When Manora and Sanra approached, he gave each a hearty embrace before Manora ushered him and the children into a side room. The diners in the hall returned to their meal, understanding that Eastern’s Weyrleader was present for a personal matter. None noticed Mirrim’s stiff back or B’nard’s strickened face.

It was the middle of second watch by the time the Weyrleader returned to Eastern. Monarth and T’gellan glided over the saddle to veer left then settle into his oblong sandy scar.  T’gellan lifted his leg over the bronze neck as he dismounted carrying the conveyance straps. He spent a few moments rubbing his hands along Monarth’s neck.

He was surprised at first that Lania would ask to be apprenticed to Manora to learn the weyr kitchen so that she could take over Eastern’s mess hall one day. “ _I thought she’d never want to return to Eastern_.” He was pleased to know she would want to return.  He brushed his cheek where she had run out to give him one last kiss and thank him for delivering her to Benden. More like deliver her from Talina. Tallan needed to mature too. Talina had abused both children; Lania by making her a personal drudge and Tallan by coddling him like a three-turner. T’gellan rubbed behind Monarth’s jaw then patted the lower part of the bronze’s snout. “ _This is the best I’ve felt since the shaker.”_

The next morning he informed the Weyrwoman that he had fostered their son and returned his oldest child to Weyr of her birth. Talina was more annoyed at the loss of her maid than her son but her holder upbringing had trained her not to question. T’gellan was a bit disappointed. He had wanted her to rail at him so that he could lose his temper.


	29. Benden Is My Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry - I have been traveling and not able to download the next chapter until I got to my best buddy's home.

Lania woke to darkness and the muffled sounds of the bakers stoking the ovens. Some internal clock told her she had slept in. Then she jumped from her cot. She remembered that T’gellan had brought Tallan and her back to Benden the night before. She felt around the partition of her cubicle until she found a covered glow. Sliding it open only a sliver she aimed it on the other side of the room to see Tallan’s tousled head on the other cot.

“Tallan’ll sleep a bit longer, I’ll warrant,” she thought to herself as she slipped on her skirt and laced up her bodice. “He is too much like his mother when he comes to wakening.” She suppressed a giggle as she passed through the curtain and pushed on her shoes.

As she walked through the maze of cubicles, she followed the familiar smells of Benden’s kitchen and dining hall. She emerged on the mezzanine where she had a wide view of the hall. The night hearth glowed dully in its corner casting a red highlight on nearby tables and benches. She skipped to the third set of steps that took her to the entrance to the pass-through and into the kitchen.

Two bakers were kneading dough while an apprentice she didn’t recognize was fidgeting with the baffles on the wall ovens. She hadn’t realized that she was a bit chilled until she entered the warmth of the bakery. One of the bakers, a woman named Cirlios, looked up and smiled.

“I was told you had returned, Lania, but my, it’s early.” She turned back to the mass which she divided and began shaping into loaves.

“It’s past dawn in Eastern and I always did wake early.” Lania replied as she deftly twirled her thick hair into a knot at the base of her neck and pinned it with a wooden awl from her pocket. “Where can I start?”

The man kneading bread was old and a bit bent. He carried his weight in his shoulders and chest over spindly legs which made his stoop more pronounced. He chortled after Lania spoke.

“Good morning, Masterbaker Eltopek. I do not know where Manora or Felena wish to start me. I came in so late last night.”

For his size and burley shape, the man had a high squeaky voice, “You’d not rather go to your mother in the gardens or continue with Sanra and the kiddies?”

“Well,” Lania temporized as she picked up an apron and tied it over her clothes. “If I am to return to Eastern’s kitchen some day, I must learn all aspects of feeding dragonmen. She cracked the door to the first oven then pulled the baffle handle out of the apprentice’s hand. “First oven’s about ready; I’ll warrant the second will need to cool a bit.”

“T’wer my job, missy,” the apprentice growled. He didn’t try to shift her adjustments but retreated to a stool in the corner.

“Get to stoking the next oven, you.” Eltopek growled over his shoulder while Cirlios grabbed his arm to move him to his next task.

“That there is some stray left at the tunnel entrance, Toob’s his name. Toob, you bow to this girl,” Cirlios commanded with little belief that he would comply. The boy rubbed his arm and stared up at Lania with angry grey eyes.

Lania stepped forward with her arms outstretched, “I greet you, Toob of Benden. I am Lania, formerly of Eastern and once again of Benden.”

The boy eyed her hands suspiciously.

“I’ve greeted you as an equal.” She challenged.

Both bakers watched the pair until Toob brought his arms out, palms up. “I greet you, Lania of Benden, formerly of Eastern.”

She pressed her hands down on his then grasped one hand as she pulled him to the second oven. “The trick with the baffles is to feather ‘em until the heat on either side feels the same. Put your hand up.” Lania lifted his hand to the left then the right. “Feel the difference?”

The boy nodded.

“OK, you keep adjusting and I’ll get the next oven warming.” Lania smiled at the two bakers then settled to her task.

By the time Felena had entered the long hall that was Benden’s outer kitchen, Lania and Toob had already started heating the klah kettles. Lania looked up with a big smile while Toob ducked back.

“Good morning, Felena,” Lania said with a curtsey, “Toob, come forward and say good morning to Felena.”

The boy ambled toward Lania as Felena watched, dubiously. He bowed and mumbled “Mornin.”

“Good morning to you both,” Felena passed by them while fastening her apron. “You did say you were an early riser, Lania.”

“Oh, it’s easy when I’m used to rising at Eastern; the sun is already past the half mark to zenith and my mind is still set to there.”

“A good habit for a headwoman’s apprentice,” Felena responded. She reached into her pocket for a ring of keys then opened a recessed door and pulled out a sack of pungent bark. “Lanai, please grind this. Toob, you help her.”

In quick strides, Lania took the bag and beckoned to Toob. She used a cleaver to chop the bark into manageable chunks while Toob dropped them into a grinder then attached the handle and begun spinning it.

“Aren’t you afraid I may pocket the bark?” Toob said in a low voice to Lania as he held the pungent chunk up to his nose.

“That’d make no sense. Just grind the stuff so we can get the pots going. One thing I do know about dragonmen is that they want their klah as soon as they’re in the hall.” She cocked her ear, shrugged and continued. “The leaders and seconds will be entering soon. There, that’s ground enough. Take the tray out the bottom and give it to Felena.”

Felena was measuring cereal into the second kettle that Lania had insisted Toob fill earlier. He approached her cautiously. “Oh good, Toob, put the tray down and grab that ladel for me. There’s a good lad.” She quickly stirred while pouring the rest of the cereal into the steaming pot.

Lania came up behind her taking the measuring scoop and ladel. “Best get the klah going, Felena. Toob, do you want to stir the cereal or grind more klah?

“Don’t really want to do neither,” he replied sullenly.

Felena scowled and was ready with a spoon when Lania replied, “You did a good job with the grinder. The sooner we get this part of the meal done, the sooner we can breakfast ourselves. I’m famished! Aren’t you?”

Toob shuffled over to the grinder which Lania had already filled with more chunks. He furtively returned the chunks he had put in his pocket earlier.

The women who set the tables and serve the food had arrived as Lania brought klah, fresh bread and cereal to a corner table where Toob sat.

He began eating in silence while she disappeared up the stairs. Shortly, she returned with an auburn haired boy. He twisted his fists in his eyes and took swipes at Lania as she tried to tame the wilder cowlicks at the back of his head.

“Gerroff, Lania, I’ll dunk my head and push it back later. I’m hungry.”

“Toob,” Lania addressed him holding her brother before her. “Greet Tallan, my brother. Tallan, this is Toob.”

“I greet you Toob,” replied Tallan with an absent wave. “Food! Real food!” The boy sat opposite Toob who watched in disbelief as the boy dumped an obscene amount of sweeting on his cereal and began spooning it into his mouth.

“Slow down, Tal. It’s not like you’d been starved.” Lania admonished while Toob darted a sour look her way. “You’d best eat, Toob, before this rooting wherrie starts on your bowl.” The boy picked up his warm bread that had been covered in a soft cheese. He helped himself to a few berries before Tallan scooped up the dish and emptied the contents into the last half of his cereal.

Lania cradled her mug of klah and watched Toob and wondered how the boy managed to enter Benden. A lot of boys and even young men would trek to a weyr in hopes of becoming a dragon rider but Toob didn’t fit the mold. He was too furtive and distrustful, like he’d wearied of life. “Felena said you are new to Benden Weyr.” She said, hoping to get a response. He reminded her eerily of Darilda.

Toob grunted an assent.

“Cirlios said you were found outside the tunnel?” Lania stared at the boy. “Where’d you come from?”

“If I said, you’d know where to return me.” He took a gulp of klah.

“Maybe not, if you make a good enough worker, Benden’ll keep you. Benden has done that before. They took me and Tallan back from Eastern.”

Toob looked up, “You keep mentioning Eastern Weyr like you are going back.”

“I hope to, some day. T’gellan, my da, brought me back after… He brought me and my brother to foster him and apprentice me. I am sure we will get to go back if we want. Maybe we could take you with us. Eastern is so far away and always looking for more people. Wouldn’t you say so, Tallan?”

Tallan was smearing cream onto his second breakfast roll. “Have you tasted the soft cheese, Lania? It’s smooth and melty. No chunks like Mauda’s. This is the best bread I’ve eaten in turns!”

“I asked you a question, Tallan. Don’t you think we could take Toob here when we go back to Eastern?”

Tallan studied the boy across from him then chuckled, “Toob’s a funny name.”

Before Toob could react, Manora poked her head through the pass-through. “Lania, as soon as you’re done with your meal, take Toob and Tallan to the Harper then report back to Willa today. She looked sharply at the boy’s expression. I want no trouble from you, Toob. You don’t know your harper lessons and all people of the weyr must know them if they want to stay. Don’t give me any more trouble now.” Her head popped back behind the pass through.

“Toob the trouble maker.” Tallan chanted.

Lania cuffed the back of her brother’s head and he smiled good-naturedly at Toob. “C’mon lads, I have real learning to do, once I’m rid of you.”

###

Mirrim entered the dining hall about mid morning, behind B'salk, F'niral and G'naret. Each carried a sack across his backs. As they approached the worktable where several women were seated, she heard Lania’s voice “ .. fell during the shaker and most of what was left got washed away by the flood, what we couldn’t get to higher ground in time.”

The women exclaimed surprise, dismay and wonderment at Lania’s tale and she was enjoying the attention.

F'niral, cleared his throat then announced, “We have sacks of fresh beachfruit, my lovelies. Where’d you want them?” The women around the worktable stood to relieve the riders of their sacks.

Willa pulled a few from the sack and juggled the hard, dark fruit. “They’ll be perfect for bubbly pies.” Do you have more than just four sacks?

Mirrim answered, “We left the crews on the beach to keep picking and our dragons are laden with more sacks. Many women joined the riders to help bring in the delicacy as the four dragon riders returned to the bowl to bring in the rest of the sacks.

“Mirri Mirri Mirri,” Lania called as she rushed to her side. “You were right about trundle bugs. They will go in only one direction and do give off a stink if you try to move them in another. I’m back at Benden, by the way. T’gellan brought me and Tallan back last night.”

“I saw.” Mirrim replied while returning Lania’s spontaneous hug.

“And the dawn sisters, they’re right overhead at Eastern. Did you know they were the ancients’ ships?” Lania continued, excitedly.

“All of Pern knows that, girl,” B’salk replied as he came up from behind and squeezed her neck. “You got tall! Is that what sun does to scrawny little girls?”

Lania blushed but persisted with Mirrim, “And you are right about the fellis trees. They produce blossoms twice a turn and there are so many wild fire lizards at Eastern we quit banding our own.”

“Do you have one yet?” asked Mirrim.

“No, Talina wouldn’t allow it.” Lania replied in a low voice then became animated again. “You should see the size of the herders. They were wild but Kerooninans tamed them. Well, first they tamed the runners then actually herded the herders into big confines. I guess that’s why they’re called herders.”

They were at the dragons, Mirrim untied two more sacks from Path’s back. “Do you think you can handle a full sack, Lania?

The girl hefted the large bag to her back then put it down abruptly. “I guess not yet,” she replied.

With the help of the kitchen workers, the laden dragons were soon free and they lifted back to the beach to pick up another load. Some of the sack had to wait in the halls as the noon meal needed to be served. As Lania filled her tray and turned to find Mirrim and the other riders, Willa and Sanra beckoned her to join them.

“You’re too young yet to sit a lunch or dinner with dragonriders, Lania,” Willa said bluntly. “Riders will think you are old enough for them.”

Lania appeared puzzled as she looked between the two women then suddenly brightened. “Oh, you mean, oh no. I’ve only eleven turns.”

“Good girl,” said Sanra, “If one of them gets too friendly with you, you let me or Willa know.”

“I only wanted to talk to Mirrim,” Lania replied. She’s been my friend since I was littler than Tallan. I have so much to tell her.”

The older women regarded each other. Sanra reached her hand across the table to Lania’s arm. “Mirrim is a rider now.”

“Mirrim was my friend before and after she impressed Path.” Lania protested.

“Mirrim weyrs with B’nard, Blue Mowalth’s rider now,” said Willa. “She has a different life since you went to Eastern. Let her decide to continue a friendship with you.”

Lania remained silent and looked down at her food feeling dejected. She wondered why she couldn’t renew this friendship. In only that morning, she had reunited with many of the folk that she hadn’t seen in two turns. One had even become a woman and was close to delivering her first child. She sighed.

Sanra squeezed her arm. “Sit with Mirrim in the morning at breakfast to talk with her. She rises about as early as you. You two can still be friends, just not around other riders.

“Oh,” Lania said then laughed in relief. “I have so much to tell her about Talina!”

“Well don’t keep such tales of Eastern’s Weyrwoman to just Mirrim,” Willa replied with a smile of pure mischievousness.

“Without a doubt,” Sanra cooed leaning forward. “How goes life in Eastern with Arwith’s rider?”

###

B’nard and Mowalth landed on the lip of their weyr. Path warbled from the heights and Mowalth looked up. “ _Hurry with the straps, dearest. Path says the sun still beats upon the heights._ ”

As he reached under his dragon, B’nard realized that a rhythmic sound emanated from within his weyr. Mirrim, clad in an undertunic and socks was whipping her wherhide pants against an outcrop; her jacket looked otherwise beaten in a heap by her riding straps. He stopped to watch her strong swings thinking she was venting some afterflame.

“ _Hurry up!_ ” Mowalth complained with a growl.

She stopped, looking toward the entrance where B’nard was slinging his straps over his shoulder and Mowalth’s back feet and tail jumped to the heights. He smiled brightly as he approached her. “And your riding gear’s crime for such punishment?” He asked as he slipped his hands behind her and pressed her to him.

“Sand.”

“Have you been playing in the hatching grounds?”

Mirrim chuckled, “No, G'naret was fool enough to tell Kenelas where a bumper crop of new beachfruit was growing under the Benden cliffs.”

“The cad!” B’nard replied, “Now we will suffer bubbly pies.”

“My morning was supposed to be free for the maproom and instead I am filling my gear with sand, picking beachfruit from within the thorns.”

B’nard threw his arm around her shoulders as he steered her to the bathing pool, “There’s still time for the maproom.”

“You’re essentially ready to go at any ‘Time’,” Mirrim replied as she slid her arm across his back to loop her index finger into his jacket’s strap ring.

At the edge of the pool, she pulled the tunic over her head then took each sock off before sliding in. B’nard entered his room to put his gear away. He couldn’t help his feelings of ambivalence about his jump back to Bagira when he thought of the changes it might cause between him and his weyrmate. He mechanically hung up his riding straps and gear imagining Bagira in his arms but his fantasies were so closely related to his actual endeavors with Mirrim since they shared each other’s cots so often of late.

He had begun talking more of the jump since a few nights back when she bolted up in bed frantically calling to T’gellan to wake up. As he tried to comfort her, she calmed back into sleep but he lay awake until she rose to work her muscles in the predawn, completely oblivious to her nightmare. When B’nard confronted Mirrim she was puzzled as she had thought she had slept soundly. “It’s time to do this blasted jump.” He mumbled to the pegs.

He pulled his tunic over his head and unbelted his trousers; hanging them up as well. Deep down, he was convinced that the two of them as mates was transitory. He leaned his head against the wall feeling its coolness soothe the jumbled thoughts. With a sigh he pulled the towel from its peg. B’nard no longer thought of ‘ifs” when it came to T’gellan. When he came for Mirrim, B’nard best be prepared and that meant the jump.

Wearing a towel about his waist he returned to their shared bath. He eased himself down the three steps before his door into the warm waters. He pulled his razor from its shelf then ran the blade over his cheeks and chin. Mirrim had soaped her hair and dunked by the time he was done. She rested against the steps to her bedchamber.

“Do we dine together or with our wings tonight?” He asked casually.

“Dine with your wing, I plan to eat quickly then dash to the maproom. I still think the day before next rest day is the best and easiest to return to. You can sleep that entire restday.” Mirrim said.

“We have fall the day after tomorrow. I don’t know if that’s enough time to rest Mowalth.”

“I already said; feed him tomorrow then right after fall when you go to wash him. Then by the day before restday, he’d be ready to jump.”

“I dunno, Mirrim,” B’nard leaned back in the water looking at the high ceiling. “You always said that we had …Time.”

“Awe, B’nard, I may as well ask Bagira if you were a wizen old man when you appeared to her. Think of the strain on her these past few turns, keeping this secret. Have some compassion for the poor woman.” Mirrim accompanied this statement with a splash of water. By the time B’nard looked up her backside was disappearing behind the curtain of her bedchamber.

“ _You will not be easy until we go, my love._ ” Mowalth drawled into his mind.

###

Mirrim lingered over her breakfast, knowing that her day would be spent toiling away in the apothecary preparing the herbs she brought back from the Benden sea cliffs the day before. She poured herself a second cup of klah. Lania tentatively stepped up to her table.

“Can I sit with you a while, Mirrim?” she asked timidly.

“By all means, Lania. We barely had time to talk yesterday. Willa says you are here to learn the Headwoman duties. Does this mean you no longer want to sit astride a green dragon?”

Lania sat across from Mirrim then shook her head slightly. “Talina said no.”

Mirrim snorted. “Talina barely has power over Arwith. She has none over you, especially as you reside at Benden.”

Lania had continued to look sadly at Mirrim. “Perhaps not, I want to help T’gellan and Eastern and I would serve best feeding dragonmen. I think Talina would welcome me back in the kitchen. We had a good Headwoman but, well she and her folk left. Talina appointed a headwoman who doesn’t know how to feed so many people. An’ Talina says she does not handle the stores well.”

“Learn what you can from Manora; she knows how to make foodstuffs last as well as keep the weyrfolk healthy.” Mirrim replied while taking a bite of her bread. “And if you have any difficulty with a dragonrider, you tell me.” She added after she swallowed.

Lania giggled, “I got the same speech from Willa and Sanra. “

“I did too, when I first came to Benden. It is good advice.”

Lania sipped the mug of klah she had brought with her looking at Mirrim. Her hair was too her shoulders, almost and her eyes were still a piercing green. Mirrim had that same air of grim self-assuredness that all riders had. Perhaps it was a two-turn separation that caused her to notice.

Mirrim returned her gaze then in one of her uncanny responses to another’s personal thoughts she smiled and said, “You’ve changed quite a bit in the last turn or two and I don’t mean height. You are so serious.”

“Oh, I am! I want to be good enough in my weyr management proficiency that all the Eastern Queenriders will agree take me back.” Lania lapsed back into pensive silence which Mirrim let her have. “Mirrim?”

“Yes?”

“If you have time, would you also teach me herb lore?

“You mean medicinals?”

Lania’s brow creased. “Not the healer lore but what to put in food to keep people healthy.”

“Manora is an expert at those herbs, spices and concoctions,” replied Mirrim.

“Yes she is, on how to use them but I want to be able to find them and prepare them, when to harvest them and the like.”

“Alamina, your ma’am knows plant growth and harvesting. You could talk to her. I’m sure she would like you to go to her now that you are back.”

Lania’s brow creased again, “She grows foodstuffs like tuber and greens on the lower slopes outside the Benden Weyr entrance and I know those but she doesn’t grow the herbs.” Lania paused, thinking. “Valta, Eastern’s first headwoman would be sending out kitchen workers to find wild klah bark, sally leaves and gold vines but Eastern grows different plants than High Reaches. She was constantly arguing with the Golden Riders for what had to be bought in the North.”

“I would be pleased to show you.” Mirrim responded. “Tell Kenelas you want to be on foraging detail. I usually fly conveyance so that I can gather medicinals.”

“Thank you, Mirrim. I am so pleased to be home again; even it’s only for a few turns. Could I also borrow Reppa or Tolly?

“A fire lizard? You have a message to send?”

“Yes,” replied Lania. “You reminded me that I have not told Alamina that I am back. Maybe I should send her a note so we can visit next rest day.”

“I expect all of Alamina’s folk to come back soon. Harvest was this past sevenday. They should be done turning the gardens. But I’ll call Tolly to me so you can send her a note.”

“Thank you Mirrim. I forgot that harvest is so much sooner on the northern continent.” Lania smiled brightly then a tear slip down her cheek. Mirrim scooted over to her side and gave the girl a hug as Tolly flew into the dining hall, landed before his mistress then stared pointedly at the scraps on Mirrim’s plate.

As the brown fire lizard flew out of the cavern, Felena called to Lania to come help in the kitchen. Mirrim stood. “I must get to the infirmary for there’s where my duties lie today. You think on what I said, Lania and we can breakfast any morning you want except for falls, how does that sound?”

Lania wiped the tears from her face and nodded.

As she stepped from the glowlight of the hall to the morning sun, Mirrim breathed in the crisp spring air which, in a weyr, was always flavored with the musky scent of dragons. She mused at how much Lania reminded her whne she was a girl. Lania’s devotion to Talina was as keen as hers had been to Brekke. Brekke had not been perfect, but her heart was good. Talina was no Brekke but Mirrim knew that she had always been fond of Lania. She had envisioned T’gellan happy with Talina and his children in his weyr. He had always wanted a home life like that. When she gave him up to Talina and Eastern Weyr, Mirrim was certain that T’gellan would gain it. It was one of those thoughts that would comfort her when her mood turned brooding. Lania’s tears this morning spoke more of both Weyrleaders’ misery than her own.

Mirrim was almost to the Infirmary ramp when she heard the rapid footfalls behind her. When she turned, Lania ran to her and hugged her fiercely then reached up and kissed Mirrim on the cheek. “That’s from T’gellan. He gave me that kiss on my cheek the last night and said that was for me to give to you from him. He misses you.”

“I miss him too.”

 


	30. Bad Fall

The abrupt return from between did assuage the burns peppering T’gellan’s face. This fall over the plains east of the Jordan was turning bad. The wind had whipped Monarth’s flame away from thread and heated thread fragments had landed on his face. Monarth took them between an instant later.

He told Monarth to fly back and up in order to view the weyr’s position against the threadfall. He was still flying only three wings plus the queens today. The wind was proving difficult. No clouds were present to take some of the life out of thread either. Although he was pleased to see the sequence of flame gouts, he had to acknowledge that more thread than usual was falling to the queens’ wing. He looked down. Where was that familiar golden wedge? He was about to order S’form to send a couple of his greens from one wing down to the queens’ level when the anguished bellow of a golden dragon continued into between. It was Miridath.

Unbidden Monarth blinked between so that he was under the falling queen. As T’gellan laid flat then slid to the side he glimpsed the riderless Keith to his right. Miridath now rested on the backs of the two bronzes. T’gellan saw one of her straps flapping between the golden and bronze hides which he grabbed and held taut.

 _“Take us home, Weyrleader.”_ Keith said into his mind. He suddenly felt Miridath’s screams inside his skull. _“Hold to the Weyrleader, my love. The Weyrleader will bring you and your rider home.”_

Monarth spoke quickly and privately to T’gellan. _“We cannot hear Miridath’s rider and Miridath will not let us take her between. You must sooth her or the pair is lost.”_

T’gellan’s throat felt dry as he focused his mind on Miridath. _“My love, you cannot leave your bronzes. Not Keith. Not Monarth. Volkona is on your back and is hurt too. I have hold of her. We will not lose her between. Submit to us, and let us tend to you both.”_

 _“You will save us, T’gellan. Our only Weyrleader,”_ said a voice so much like Volkona’s that T’gellen felt a stab deep in his gut.

 _“Take us above the infirmary,”_ T’gellan imagined being above the site and a moment later the three dragons and two riders hovered above healers ready to tend. As the two bronzes lowered to the ground, he heard Monarth tell Keith to lie as flat as possible then roll to the right on his mark. Almost too late, T’gellan realized that he needed to let go of Miridath’s strap and slide under Monarth’s neck as his dragon rolled to the left. Miridath now lay on the ground with her wings folded to her back. Volkona was a limp burnt form on her neck.

As T’gellan unstrapped from his awkward position he saw K’lomar, running towards them. He ran up the tail and onto the back of his bronze. The two were aloft and winging toward the sea a moment later. T’gellan did glimpse K’lomar’s face which was a mask of agony. Miridath whimpered as healers began smearing numbweed against the burns on her neck and chest. A wave of queasiness spread over T’gellan as he realized that the neat burnt circle on the queen’s body had only one imperfection which was in the shape of a human leg.

He approached the knot of healers on the ground. Wendel was growling orders as he pounded on Volkona’s chest. One of the healers was cutting away the wherhide pants and clothing underneath which fell away in charred tatters.

“The leg has to go,” said Tendyr. “Cut that jacket off and check her arm.”

Two healers ran back from the long building that was the dragonriders’ infirmary with a board and saw.

“You can’t cut her leg off,” yelled T’gellan with sudden realization. Wendel rose abruptly and fixed T’gellan with a fierce ice-blue gaze. He backed away.

“K’lomar had enough sense to leave, Weyrleader. Follow his example or be responsible for this rider and dragon’s death.” He turned and barked to a young woman holding a pot of numbweed, “Yaltia, tend to the Weyrleader’s face.” He sunk to his knees with his head against Volkona’s bare chest. “I’ve got a beat. Numb her up.”

T’gellan slapped off Yalita’s hand as he backed away. _“Go to Miridath, hold her head and keep her from her rider’s pain.”_ Monarth had shifted to Miridath’s right side keeping her right wing pinned to her side. T’gellan straddled the golden’s snout and splayed his body against her head. He shut out the people working against her left side. With his forehead pressed between the eyes just below the brow ridge. T’gellan raised both arms and began rhythmically caressing the brow ridges as he crooned, “ _Stay, stay, stay. Stay with us Miridath. Stay. We love you._ ”

###

Volkona woke in the late afternoon to feel all the bronzes and queens speaking soothingly to her and Miridath. She was in a darkened room and could sense somebody beside her. Her last recollection had been the satisfaction of diving on a stray clump of thread heading for one of the outbuildings of a ranch. Miridath had swerved at the precise moment that Volkona had shot the flame to her right. Both had stated “ _Good_ ” as the sooty remains of thread floated harmlessly to the roof. Then they went between to return to their lead position of the wedge.

She shifted and hissed an involuntary moan. Her entire left side was boiling. Tears ran down the right side of her face. It was then that she realized that the left side of her face was covered in bandaging. “Miridath,” she gasped. “ _Miridath, are you there? We couldn’t have popped into thread. You saw it was clear!_ ”

The person beside her had picked up a bowl of numbweed, pulled aside the bandaging and administered some to her face and arm. As the person moved down her torso and onto her hip, Miridath answered. “ _I love you rider Volkona. We will fly and sear thread again, my love. We will fly in heat and make all the bronzes vie for us again. We don’t need a leg to fly. I love you._ ” The person stopped at the knee and Volkona knew that her left leg was gone ever though she could still feel her toes splay.

“Why is my leg gone?” She said to the person administering to her.

“Because it took a direct blast from a flame thrower.” Cana’s low voice answered. “The Healers couldn’t save it. T’gellan did try to keep them from cutting it off but Healer Tendyr was right. It was too burnt up.”

Volkona was silent, letting Cana shift her to continue spreading the pain numbing salve over her left side. She tried to remember the threadfight. It was odd that a green rider would be administering to her. “How long have I been out?” She heard Cana set the bowl of numbweed down then rinse her hands, probably in a solution of redroot, before she turned back to her.

“Threadfight was this morning. You and Miridath took the hit about half way through the fight.” She slowly placed the gauzy bandaging back over Volkona’s side and face. “It is late afternoon. The Healers said you would wake before dark. They plan to dose you again so you can heal. Are you thirsty? Do you need a bedpan?”

“I’ll take some water.” She felt Cana move to her right side before lifting her upper body up a bit and pressing a mug of water to her lips. As she was lowered back to the bed she became more lucid.

“You were in my wing today. Who hit us?”

“It was an accident, Volkona. Even if a stupid one,” Cana paused. “As a queen rider she should have known not to break rank.”

“Talina!” Volkona stated flatly. ”She broke rank and took lead when we dove on the thread, didn’t she.”

“Yes.”

“Call in a healer please, Cana. They’re right. I will need to be dosed.” She growled.

“I will in a moment, Volkona. You need to know that Delianna and Lopey bodily dragged her to the infirmary and made her watch the healers tend to you. She was not in the least contrite so T’gellan turned her over his knee and beat her like an errant child right there. Then K’lomar, then F’nton, then H’rogan … they all took a turn at the discipline. ‘SHE’ has been confined to her quarters which greatly disappointed P’wer and S’form because they wanted their turn at disciplining her once fall was through.”

Volkona snorted then grimaced.”But Arwith? Did the bronzes discipline her too?”

“ _She who rides me is disgraced. I am disgraced. I know I fly left of point. I am disgraced, dishonored, debased. I am not fit to lead with she who rides me_ ” This was followed by a pitiful keen which none of the other dragons answered.

“Oh!” Both women exclaimed.

“ _Miridath, tell Arwith I don’t blame her._ ” But, a savage bellow echoed.

“I didn’t know a dragon could feel such shame,” Cana replied. “Poor Arwith can’t even acknowledge Talina.”

Volkona snorted again. A slim, young woman, a special friend to at least one brown rider, slipped into the room with a weak glow. She was a journeyman healer whose name escaped Volkona’s memory.

“Wendel and Tendyr say you are to drink this entire amount after you have vacated your bowels and emptied your bladder.”

“Huh?” Volkona replied.

“You need to poop and pee,” said Cana holding up a metal bowl and rapping it twice. A “koong koong” sound emitted from it.

Nan relieved Cana about two hours past sunset. “You are wanted at the head table. T’gellan and

Delianna wait for you.” Nan said as Cana stood and stretched. “How’s Volkona? Has she wakened?”

“Aye, right before sunset as the healers predicted. Savma said this latest dose will last until change out between first and second watch.” Cana replied as she walked toward the curtain at the opening.

“T’gellan reprimanded Lopey, you should know. Does Volkona remember anything?”

Cana turned at the doorway, “For what? What did Lopey do but make sure ‘SHE’ faced the consequences of her actions?”

“Lopey was a bit too proud when she stated that she was responsible for ‘her’ black eye.” Both green riders laughed.

“I’d take credit for that too,” Cana smirked then continued soberly. “Volkona is aware her leg is gone. I think Miridath told her the moment she woke. Volkona knows that the Weyrwoman hit her, full blast, with the flamethrower but she doesn’t blame Arwith.”

“Don’t volunteer that to the Weyrleader; I’ve never seen T’gellan as angry and shaken up as he is right now. He scares me. Delianna is scared too.”

Cana walked the long hallway to the main doorway where Savma sat at a table grinding something pungent with a mortar and pestle. “Good night. I hope you are off duty soon.” The slim, pretty girl looked up and smiled faintly.

Cana walked up the path that connected to the main one which crossed over the saddle to the river side. The new dragonrider infirmary was built first, the holder one still in debate, the new dining hall was not begun and people congregated near the site of the former one for meals. The nightly bonfire at the saddle was still burning and a few riders and workers sat quietly around it. It’s flames reflected against the back of Arwith who was tucked against Talina’s weyr. The mood of the people was subdued.

Some of the torches were lit and she soon spotted the trestle table where all the bronze wingleaders, Delianna and T’gellan sat. Their meals were barely touched. As she came forward through the other tables, Cana realized the absolute silence of the remaining diners. She nodded to her parents as she passed them then returned her gaze to the head table. T’gellan was still in his riding gear. Part of his face was darkened by soot but the burnt parts had been cleaned and dabbed with salve. He looked frightening. She had always known him to be a fair, levelheaded leader but at this moment, he looked a bit deranged.

“Sit. Eat.” He commanded as she stopped in front of him.

Delianna gestured to the bench opposite them as Mauuda scurried over with a half-bowl of soup. A drudge was behind her with cheese and bread. Cana sat as directed but only stared at the food. Nobody else had touched their stew or nibbled on their bread and cheese. “ _Jermith, what do you know about the leaders?_ ” She implored upon her green.

“ _No joy_.” Jermith replied. “ _Come rest with me. You are not hungry._ ”

As her eyes refocused she felt T’gellan’s stony gaze upon her. She faced him again, remembering Nan’s warning and Jermith’s statement. She waited.

“You attended Volkona for the last four hours, you should be hungry, Cana. Eat!” T’gellan said slowly, as if he was gauging each word for its impact.

“No sir, I am not hungry.” Cana replied with as much deliberation for the potential impact her words may deliver.

With a great sigh, T’gellan seemed to release some inner tautness. The rest of the head table reacted with favorable calmness. “None of us are, child,” T’gellan replied more true to his character. “Tell us, does Volkona rest easy?”

“She woke briefly before dark and conversed with her dragon. The healer dosed her again. Volkona is not expected to wake until second watch.” Cana said after she consciously sipped a spoonful of broth and suppressed her dislike of its aftertaste. Delianna nodded lightly and rewarded Cana with a wink.

“Very well,” T’gellan said as he stood. “You deserve your rest too, Cana. Thank you for your watch over her.” He stepped into the darkness. The entire hall began buzzing with low conversations. Cana ate her cheese but left the bread and stew alone. Some of the bronze riders strolled off along with many in the hall. Delianna leaned forward and said in a low voice. “Come follow me. Bring that bread and bowl.”

Cana lifted the bowl in one hand and the roll in her other hurrying to catch up to Delianna who had started walking up to the saddle. The realization that Delianna was bespeaking Arwith via Namanth made Cana halt. “No”, she breathed. “I don’t want to look at her, let alone feed her.”

“Come along, Cana,” Delianna ordered. “Weyrfolk don’t deny sustenance to their own. You must report to the Weyrwoman as you did the Weyrleader.” Arwith shifted enough for the two women to pass into the dimly lit cave. Talina was sprawled; face down, on her cot. She still wore her wherhide pants but her boots and jacket were tossed upon the press. “Get up, Talina, and eat what we’ve brought.” Delianna had crossed to the sconce on the wall and released the catch. She kicked Talina’s helmet towards the rest of her gear then walked to the foot of the bed.

Talina hadn’t moved so Delianna grabbed her ankles and pulled the woman off the bed. Talina upturned her cot as she grabbed the frame but was on her feet and facing Delianna before the other woman resumed an upright position. Her hands balled in fists ready to strike. The taller woman crossed her arms and looked down upon her. “T’gellan’s orders are that you remain isolated in your weyr until he makes a decision. Set your cot back upright and we’ll feed you.”

“I am not hungry. Take it away.” Talina finally spoke.

“You will eat this or go hungry, Talina. T’gellan says that only the green riders and I will tend to you.”

Talina looked at Cana for the first time, anger and hatred in her eyes. Cana had been present at her public humiliation when she had pleaded with the men that it had been an accident. Not one rider had stepped up to her aid, not even P’wer.

“Leave the food; I will eat it later. For now, I require water.”

Cana looked inquiringly at Delianna who continued to tower over the other woman, arms crossed. “There’s water in the broth, if you are thirsty. You will eat now. Put your cot back upright and sit so that you may eat.”

Talina kicked the cot then pushed at Delianna who immediately grabbed the Weyrwoman’s arms to her side then shoved her to the wall. “You seem to have forgotten your sudden state of disgrace in this weyr.”

“I am still the Weyrwoman!” Talina cried.

“Not for long, you fool; do you think our people are ever going to trust your unremorseful hide again? Your foolish, stubborn, self-centered ways have almost killed one of the best Golden riders I have ever had the honor to know. Some think you fired on her by accident but I know you better. You’ve never managed to hide your resentment that T’gellan’s Monarth flew her Miridath.”

“She wanted my position.”

Delianna pulled the smaller woman forward then slammed her hard into the wall. Talina cried out in pain. “You took hers. You flew to where you don’t belong. We have all told you to stay out of the lead position in the Queens’ wing.”

“It was an acci… ooof!”

Delianna had slammed her into the wall again. “You stop! You stop your thinking that Arwith flying first entitles you. You may have removed Volkona and Umoal is too young. My Namanth will rise next. You’ve left T’gellan little choice but to enact succession and I don’t want to be the Weyrwoman after your mess!”

“No,” Cana shouted. “No, he can’t!” She had dropped the bowl and it splattered across the floor. Talina stared at her in horror while Delianna continued to hold her against the wall.

“You find within yourself an act of contrition that keeps your sorry backside as Weyrwoman because I. Don’t. Want it!” Namanth roared from without as Arwith keened hoarsely. She abruptly let Talina go as she turned toward the entrance, “C’mon Cana, leave the bread in the bowl. I’ve done my duty to the Weyrleader and brought provisions to his Weyrwoman.”

Cana turned to leave with Delianna but spun back around to face Talina. “At the Weyrleader’s request, I sat vigil over Volkona. She woke briefly before dark and conversed with her dragon. Miridath told her that her leg was burned off. The healer dosed her again. Volkona is not expected to wake until second watch. My duty to you is done as well.”

Arwith shifted again to let the two women out then she sealed her rider back in her cave. Cana put her hand on Delianna’s arm to stop her from walking away. “T’gellan wouldn’t step down, would he? It truly was an accident…”

Delianna looked out to the sea letting the breeze cool her face after the stuffy confines of Talina’s weyr. “I don’t know, Cana. I lost my temper with her. I know I do not have to concern myself that you’ll keep that to yourself.” Delianna turned to face Cana. Shadows from the moons distorted both their faced and for a moment Delianna looked terrifying. Hanging her head, she continued. “Volkona is my friend and she will return to Fort once she and Miridath are healed enough to go between. And Talina, after her fool prank with the flamethrower, will never be able to leave Eastern. What other weyr would take her?”

Cana felt tears prick her eyes. “ _Come to our weyr, my love,_ ” her dragon spoke.

“Jermith calls to me, Weyrwoman. I believe that you would be an excellent Weyrwoman no matter who is leader.“ She said then walked over the saddle to her green dragon.

Delianna sighed. She trudged toward T’gellan’s weyr, sliding her hand along Arwith’s spine. “ _Namanth, please tell Arwith that we love her._ ”

“ _Arwith will not listen,_ ” her golden replied. “ _Her shame is too great._ ”

As her hand slid along the neck, Arwith ducked her head, essentially barring Delianna from touching her sensitive brow ridges or snout. Delianna continued to T’gellan’s weyr. She entered into the darkened great room where the table and chairs had been returned to their original positions. She scratched at the curtain to T’gellan’s bedroom.

“The day has been long, Delianna. You need rest too.” T’gellan’s subdued voice sounded muffled.

Delianna dared to enter her Weyrleader’s bedchamber for the first time. Bathed in gentle glows, he sat upon his bed with his knees bent and resting his back against the wall. As she approached him he lifted his arm to stow a small box upon the deep-sash window above his head. He rested his arms on his knees. “I suppose no order of mine will be obeyed anymore.”

“I only wish to ease your mind T’gellan. No rider blames you for Talina’s actions.”

“I am Eastern Weyr’s Leader and I have known my Weyrwoman is too incompetent to serve effectively. I am responsible.”

She tried to go to him but he held up his hand and she halted. He pointed to a chair. “If you are to sit vigil on me then please do sit.” T’gellan let his head rest on the wall as he exhaled slowly while Delianna pulled the chair closer to the bed. Silence ensued.

After an interval of listening to the dragon breathing outside the wall T’gellan narrowed his eyes and said, “Did you know the Weyrwoman Kylara?”

“I never had the ... pleasure.” Delianna responded while flicking some mote off her skirt.

“She was a beautiful woman, fantastically beautiful. I am sure that people have remarked on your resemblance to her.” T’gellan looked directly at her.

Delianna couldn’t help shaking her head slightly. “I’ve been told.”

“Take the resemblance to her beauty as a complement. For all her faults, she was a good lead of the queens’ wing in Southern too. And she knew to rotate leads.” T’gellan paused and Delianna let him steep in his thoughts. “T’bor knew her head was not right. She was vain, jealous, cruel and slatternly. But, she rode a queen and everyone expected that she’d rein in her baser proclivities for the good of her dragon if not the good of her Weyr.”

Delianna had heard the reports after the queens were killed and her prejudices were directed more against the riders of this age than her own; lack of discipline in the greater colors.

T’gellan hefted another long sigh. “T’bor could have done more for his Weyrfolk but he didn’t act to remove her. When Pilgra’s Segrith rose after the queens …” T’gellan paused again and looked to the ceiling. “After losing two queens, T’bor knew better than to even try. So he didn’t. He and Orth sat out. Instead, M’rand’s Tilgreth flew Segrith and now he is Weyrleader of High Reaches.”

Delianna mulled over the direction of T’gellen’s speech. She remembered cheering with the rest of Igen to hear that High Reaches had returned to the leadership of her contemporaries. But since living with riders of both ages for almost two turns she had learned that riders were both kind and cruel, intelligent and simple, industrious and indolent, regardless of a four hundred turn gap.

“He let the leadership pass.” T’gellan continued heatedly which snapped Delianna out of her reverie. “I don’t even have that option if I am to remove her. It took a knife fight and a weyr full of angry people to force Madra to admit that she was unfit to lead anymore.”

“T’gellan, you can’t step down. We are barely established.” Delianna protested.

The man moved so quickly that before she could react, T’gellan’s soot and numbweed dotted face was a breath away. In a strained voice he growled, “My duty to this Weyr is to remove the incompetent. Talina is incompetent and so am I if I neglect this duty.”

He slowly moved back to his former position and covered his face. Delianna fought to keep her composure feeling the press of tears against her eyes then T’gellan choked a sob. The emotions of the day had caught up to him. Her fear of him dissolved as a soft whine escaped from his lips. She crawled upon the bed then took his head to her chest. He wrapped his arms around her, fully venting his anguish.

Delianna allowed T’gellan to finish his outburst. Many nights, in the privacy of their weyr, H’rogan and she had discussed the possibility of being the Weyrleaders of Eastern and knew that any circumstances that would put them in that position would be too disruptive to consider. Both of them marveled at T’gellan’s ability to delegate, his sense of fairness with riders and holders alike, and his leadership, most of all. Her anger grew deeper toward Talina. She was breaking a dragonman and a bronze rider at that. Talina was destroying their leader.

She continued to stroke T’gellan’s ginger bristles along the back of his head long after he had finished rending wet sobs against her light tunic. He sat up and faced her. “Your Namanth should rise within the next half turn. H’rogan will make an excellent Weyrleader.”

“Shut up, T’gellan. Monarth could catch her as well.”

“That’s not how succession works. Both leaders must step down. I cannot allow another Kylara or Madra in this lifetime.”

“No T’gellan, this incident has sobered Talina.” Even as Delianna spoke the words she knew them to be false and so did T’gellan, by his sardonic look.

T’gellan scooted off the bed and held the curtain open for Delianna, “I thank you for your council, Weyrwoman Delianna. I am truly grateful but I know my duty to Eastern Weyr as do you.” He bowed and gestured for her to exit.

Delianna stood then walked to the curtain where she turned to him, “You wait a few days before doing anything so rash. You find a way, Weyrleader. I don’t care how you find a way to remain our leader. Volkona would tell you the same. H’rogan, K’lomar, S’form, they are of the same mind. You wait; you think and you stay, Weyrleader.”

 

###

 

On the second morning since Volkona lost her leg, T’gellan, in riding gear, walked from the infirmary where Volkona had told him that she intended to quit Eastern in favor of Fort and had already sent a petition to Margata. He stood by Arwith’s tail waiting. When she shifted to let green rider Melnita exit, stew dripping from her skirt, he quickly entered. The frightened woman ran the length of the weyr to the tanner’s area calling to Delianna. As the Weyrwoman, who was cutting new riding straps stood, Melnita threw herself at her.

“He’s in with her, it’s happening.” Melnita heaved between ragged breaths. Delianna dropped her blade and the length of leather, hiked up her skirt and pelted toward the saddle.

P’wer and M’roz stood at Arwith’s head which she still hid from people. Her color over the last two days had become more orange than golden. H’rogan and F’nton were trotting up from where their dragons had dropped them on the seaside of the saddle. Umoal, on Siloth, was circling in, waiting to land once Trebenath and Ioth exited to the spires above the weyr. More people were crowding the saddle until Delianna commanded, “Back to your duties, people.” Soon, only the principle Bronzes and two remaining, able-bodied Golden riders stood vigil.

 

###

 

The glows were dimming. Talina had taken to sitting in a back corner. It was a moment before T’gellan’s eyes had grown accustomed to the dark to spy her form. Evidence of thrown meals and overfull chamber pot assaulted his nose. “Talina, will you at least acknowledge that you acted recklessly and caused another riding pair injury?” T’gellan implored.

Talina lifted her head. Her hair hung in ropey skeins and her eyes appeared sunken. “I have admitted my part in the accident. Are you making Volkona admit her part?”

T’gellan shook his head in defeat. He knew Talina to be willful but not at the cost of her general comfort and vanity. Her riding gear was in a heap on the floor by her upturned cot. The clothing from both her presses was spilling onto the floor. “This is insanity. You have not taken care of your dragon or yourself.”

“You confined me to my weyr and Arwith will not let me out.”

“Huh, Arwith knows she’s responsible for Volkona and Miridath even if you don’t. What do you lack that you cannot admit you caused their injuries?” T’gellan waited for Talina’s response. When the silence became as oppressive as the odors of her confinement, T’gellan continued, “I am here to inform you Weyrwoman that I go to Benden to request succession at Eastern as you and I are unfit.”

“I don’t care what you do. None of these riders wanted me for their Weyrwoman and you did nothing to change their minds.” She lowered her head.

“You prove my point. Goodbye.” T’gellan had put his hand on Arwith’s hide and she moved away from the opening to let him pass. As he exited he saw that Monarth was head to head with her as she ate a wherrie he had caught for her.

 _“I take my mate for water._ ” Monarth said to his mind as his jeweled eyes spun whirls of red and white. Arwith stood then pushed to the sky. An instant later, Monarth joined her. Both veered west.

As T’gellan turned he was met by Delianna, Umoal and the Bronze wingleaders. Their somber faces matched his. He was at a loss for words until Umoal sniffed.

“Siloth’s rider, please tend to the Weyrwoman. She needs to be escorted to the showers and her weyr needs airing. Take some of the women green riders if she resists. While you have her in the showers make sure somebody sends cleaning drudges into that weyr.”

Umoal nodded then lost focus as she bespoke her golden dragon. T’gellan motioned to the rest of them to follow him to the council room. As they filed past him into the room, he addressed them from the doorway. “I go to Benden to seek F’lar’s council.” Several bronze dragons trumpeted in protest but each man at the table only stared at their Weyrleader.

“Are you certain that this must be your ‘path’?” Delianna asked in an even, measured voice that all but H’rogan turned to look at her questioningly.

“My brothers, our first duty is to our dragons. My added duty is to all dragons and riders of this Weyr. I shall seek Benden’s advice. In my absence, H’rogan, this is your new duty.” From the thud that shook the table, they knew that Monarth had landed right before the door. T’gellan needed to take only a step to be on his dragon and aloft.

 


	31. Is Chance And Fate The Same?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dragonriders of Pern belong to their creator; Ann McCaffrey. I just came to play.

Monarth burst above their usual spire in the line of crags marching into the eastern sea below Half-Circle Sea Hold. As Monarth landed T’gellan loosened his jacket and removed his helmet and gloves, attaching them to the epaulette on his right shoulder. T’gellan was certain he was meant to lead the new Eastern Weyr, but this afternoon’s encounter with Talina had sealed his decision. She wasn’t Weyrwoman material; the last threadfall proved that. Tradition had saddled him with the sorry task of removing a fool from leadership. He would lose his position too but it was the right thing to do. Experience demanded it. Duty dictated it.

Duty, what made it right? What had being dutiful earned them? Since his wing and Talina had gone to Landing, the satisfaction of leadership had siphoned out of his existence to the point where his path was wretchedly clear.

 _“Path!”_ Monarth sighed. Her image permeated their dreams. Her rider floated through their dreams too. Except for a glimpse of Mirrim at the Nerat Gather a few months ago, he hadn’t seen her since they left Benden. Both sighed and kept to each owns mind, brooding.

The afternoon was calm and sunny. The muted crash of waves on the beach reached his ears seldom as the breeze was from the sea. There were no whitecaps or boats to be seen. On such a bright day, they would be far out fishing the schools on the Nerat Stream. T’gellan rarely prevaricated. Was his reluctance due to the magnitude of failure he had to admit?

“ _This is where we think best,_ ” Monarth replied to his rider’s troubled mind. “ _This place is where you decide best. Today, before you speak to the Benden Weyrleader, you think and feel here. You have become hard, my rider._ ”

“ _Ah, Monarth, after today we will still have our love and that will sustain us._ ” T’gellan replied, patting the bronze’s neck. No better companion could T’gellan ask for in his life. What a gift Monarth had given him when he chose this scrawny boy that day, long ago, on the hot sands of Benden. He didn’t see the ensuing turns as the sacrifice it was. He was Monarth the Bronze Dragon’s Rider. He may not be the biggest or strongest dragon but Monarth was smarter than most bronzes or even queens.

Some commotion from the shore interrupted their reverie. A flurry of color swirled across their vision. It was the wild Dragon Stones Faire. One brown fire lizard broke from the formation and sped over to the great bronze and his rider. He landed on one of Monarth’s neck ridges in front of T’gellan, eyes spinning green to blue. Spontaneously, the little brown crawled up the man’s chest and rubbed his head under his chin. “Tolly! Why you are a surprise!” T’gellan laughed, his mood lifted.

Grinning fondly he caressed the fire lizard who crooned with pleasure when a little green popped above him and landed on his knee, demanding her own cuddling. “Lok! You too? Why, Mirrim must be close.” He looked up and Monarth curved his neck to see as a third and larger green burst above him, eyes spinning red. She hissed at the other two then popped out.

“Call that officious green back here now, Monarth!” T’gellan ordered. Reppa popped back whirling yellow eyes. She cheeped apologetically and landed on a neck ridge. He reached out to her brow ridges rubbing gently. “You are a bossy little green, much like your mistress but you do not intimidate a Bronze Rider. Show me Mirrim and Path.” Three images converged to show a woman bathing a green dragon in a nearly round, sandy basin not far from shore. The sun dappled the clear water. The location was not familiar but he was certain it was near. He looked behind him at the half volcano jutting from the shoreline then ahead at the stretch of beaches marching into the hazy distance. Where could they be?

Tolly lifted and twittered a “follow me”. T’gellan fastened his jacket and checked the riding straps as the big bronze followed the brown and two green fire lizards south. Tolly flew low to the water then angled behind a low rise of dunes. The backside was sandy colored rock that jutted in wind-worn jumbles. Tolly landed above a flat spot turning deep blue eyes towards them. Monarth landed his hind feet on the flat spot then stretched his neck to look over the rocks. T’gellan leaned forward as he unhitched the riding strap. Hanging onto a neck ridge he hoisted himself to the rocks and climbed up beside Monarth’s head. There, below them, was the pair facing the sea. The woman, up to her waist in the sparkling water, was pushing a long handled brush across the green dragon’s back. She was wearing a light, sleeveless shift, much like the first time they met. It clung to her back and floated beneath the clear water. He noticed that she had let her hair grow, it curled to her shoulders. T’gellan and Monarth slipped behind the rock and looked into each other eyes. Monarth’s faceted eyes glittered blue so deep they looked black. “ _Mirrim is your true Weyrwoman. Go to her_. _Tell her._ ”

T’gellan nodded. That Monarth had named her for the first time in two turns renewed his confidence. He picked his way down to a break in the rock that allowed him to cross to the seaside. He shed his wherhide jacket, tunic, pants and boots, setting them on a rock. He didn’t know what he would say to her but decided that Chance had put her in his path, words would come. T’gellan suppressed a chuckle; Delianna’s parting comment was appropriate.

As he came around the corner the breeze blew the distinctive acrid smell of firestone. Mirrim and Path must have flown a fall that morning. A few feet away, he found her gear spread out on a jutting rock to air. Shucking his light shorts beside her clothes he stepped forward into the water and waded toward them.

###

Path gazed upon the sea resting her head on the dip in the natural bowl where the fresh water spilled onto the rocks and the waves of the sea salted them. She crooned softly as her rider scooped more sand onto the brush and rubbed it along her flank. Mirrim hummed low as she bent to the task of scrubbing the firestone smell from her dragon. When Path lifted her head, Mirrim looked up. Path was looking to the rocks behind them; her eyes pulsed a deep blue. Mirrim turned to see Monarth’s head above the sandy rocks, his eyes the same hue as Path’s. Then she became aware of the man approaching her. She froze, her eyes growing larger, chest heaving. With a cry of amazement she dropped her brush and waded toward him, arms outstretched.

T’gellan held out his arms as she drew near folding her body to his. It was a moment of relief so intense it was painful, like he had been denied air. The taste of her mouth was familiar and she was eager for his lips. The smell of her skin overwhelmed his senses then she pulled her head away; gasping a moan. He laughed as he succumbed to impulses long quiescent. He lifted her. Her legs hooked over his hips as her arms hooked behind his neck pulling his head toward her as she kissed him impatiently. His arms crossed behind her back to press her closer and he slowly stepped toward Path to rest Mirrim against her.

In his minds eye, his long bronze neck was twining with her green and they were soaring high above the clouds feeling the cold air rush against their skin. He wasn’t sure if he heard Monarth or Path roar. It might have been him. It could have been Mirrim. Shards, it was probably all four of them the intensity of their reunion was that passionate. Too soon Mirrim’s hold on his body loosened. She leaned back on Path’s flank, head back, gazing at the sky. T’gellan rested his head upon her chest, still holding her up against Path. He lifted his head to see that she was regarding him, her green eyes were indecipherable. She lifted one hand to lie against his face; her index finger traced the dots of healing burns. She caressed his ear and slid her hand to the nape of his neck. As his breath slowed he shook his head at the inanity of his actions of the last two turns. Rather than recount the events that lead to this moment he simply said, “It’s no use, Mirrim.”

She stiffened. Her brow creased.

“I won’t live without you any more.”

She chuckled and smiled that familiar half smile while drinking in his eyes with hers. She blinked to look away. “But Talina?” she started to say.

“Don’t mention that idiot’s name in this moment,” he cut in sternly.

Her breath caught.

“ _Tell her to speak to me_ ,” the great bronze pleaded.

T’gellan started, confused, and then asked, “why won’t you speak to Monarth?’

Her eyes cast downward. “You forbade it,” she replied after a pause. Her depthless eyes showed the pain of that injunction when she looked back.

T’gellan remembered the terrible day when he had lost his temper. The realization made him feel even stupider. He pressed his head back into her chest as he accepted that it was he who was responsible. He had caused their separation when he barred the two of them from speaking. A Bronze Rider’s command was an absolute order, almost impossible for subordinate dragons and riders to disobey. The shock showed in his long face as he raised his head. He stepped back which allowed her to slide off Path back to her feet on the sandy bottom of the pool. “I’m sorry, Mirrim. I didn’t know what I did to the two of you that day. Speak to him; I, I retract the order.”

He watched her as her eyes focused on Monarth. One tear trekked down her cheek; she sniffed and smiled. Although he couldn’t hear their conversation, he was certain that Monarth was convincing her to be with them. Mirrim put her arms about his neck and pulled closer. He rested his chin on the crown of her head as she pressed her forehead into his neck. It was a familiar pose; one where he could nuzzle close to her ear.

“Come to my Weyr.”

She sighed.

“ _Come to our Weyr, little dark one. Be dark no more._ ”

“You and Path love us as strongly as the two of us love you.” Monarth punctuated the statement with a rumble which Path followed with a croon. T’gellan continued, “I am asking you to live at Eastern Weyr as my mate.”

“You are the Weyrleader and Talina is your Weyrwoman and mate. Are you certain that I’d be welcomed?” Mirrim replied after a pause.

T’gellan laughed heartily. “Definitely! I was about to head to Benden to enact Succession. It’s the only means I have to remove her as Weyrwoman.”

“But that means you must step down too.”

“Yes,” T’gellan smiled sadly. “That’s why she’s back in her weyr weeping into her furs. She knows I’m determined.”

They were both quiet. Eventually, Mirrim disentangled herself from his hold and waded over to the edge of the pool where her brush was bumping against the rock. As she returned, Path turned toward the rocks so that her other side could be washed. Path strained her neck towards Monarth who reached down to her. Dunking under water, Mirrim rose with a handful of sand which she applied to Path’s rump. As she began brushing the sand in wide sweeps, T’gellan joined her with a few scoops, applying sand further up the green dragon’s back. They worked in companionable silence. Monarth continued to watch from his perch; he was too big for the pool.

“You will step down but still remain at Eastern? And, you want me to be your weyrmate?” Mirrim’s inquiry sounded more like statements.

“I need you, Mirrim as much as want you.” T’gellan was staring at Path’s green hide when he chuckled. “Over the last two turns I’ve imagined you as my Weyrwoman. I don’t know how many times I thought of how you would have excelled whenever Talina failed. You would have been my perfect Weyrwoman,” he had stopped rubbing wet sand over Path’s shoulder. Facing her he smiled broadly, “and my true mate.”

She snorted. “Your faith in me is misplaced.”

“On the contrary,” he retorted. “There are several Eastern Weyrfolk who have openly wondered why you are not with me. If there has been anything that your life has prepared you to be, it is this. Why just a few restdays ago, Lord Jaxom, himself stated that you above anyone else, were the best to organize the Landing artifacts as well as set up the Eastern Dining Hall and Infirmary. He said you could organize the stars.”

Why would Jaxom even speak my name … Wait a minute! You don’t have a functioning Infirmary? Or Dining Hall?”

“We did.” He replied ruefully. “We lost them in the trembler.”

“My Stars! You’re still rebuilding?!”

“Yes, we needed to rethink locations and some of our people returned north.” He paused, wondering why she was ignorant of Eastern’s plight. He was already thinking that two turns apart were but a sevenday or two. “Thank the first shell, enough of the non-riders have stayed to rebuild but we are unorganized. You heard about Volkona and Miridath’s injuries during our last fall?”

“Yes,” Mirrim looked away. “We were told they will survive.”

“Talina countermanded Miridath’s order and broke formation, then failed to reform. She had her flame thrower set on full,”

“Typical,” gruffed Mirrim.

“She blasted full on right as Volkona and Miridath popped back from between. Then she panicked and flew to her cave and hid. Volkona’s leg was so badly burned that the healers cut it off. She has vowed to leave Eastern once Miridath can fly again.” T’gellan said coldly. “I can’t fault Volkona. And it was the last crack in the shell.”

Path dunked under the water, rolling a few times before wading out of the water. She climbed over the lip and up the sandy beach, crooning to Monarth to join her. The two riders walked out of the water. T’gellan slipped on his shorts then walked the few steps to the rest of his gear. When he turned, he saw Mirrim with her gear over her arm beckoning to him. “There’s some shade on this side of the beach. I’m going to sit there until I’m dry enough to finish dressing.” He followed. They sat in the shade of rocks that cast afternoon shadows.

She had become pensive and he had decided he would say no more until she spoke. Mirrim turned to him and smiled then looked away. T’gellan waited, enjoying the freedom to be beside her. She leaned against him and sighed. He wrapped an arm around her and nuzzled her ear. With another sigh she finally spoke. “You’ll utter not another word until I speak, eh?!”

“Something like that.”

“Ah.”

She crawled into his lap facing him; her hands behind his neck. Her back rested on his knees. “Well then,” she began. “Before you speak to F’lar, I want to talk to Talina.” He hissed at the name.

“Why?”

“If I am to join you as your mate in Eastern, you must remain Weyrleader. I’m NOT DONE,” she raised her voice while putting a finger to his protesting lips. “You were meant to lead, T’gellan, and you know your duty to your people. But, believing that removing yourself is the only way to stop Talina, no. That you love me enough to declare me your mate and give it all up,” she shook her head in disbelief. “I love you too much to ever allow it. Let me speak to the current Weyrwoman. I think I know what to offer to give us all what we want.”

###

There was a definite shift in mood when the Eastern Weyrleader returned with Path and her rider. They flew in low with the green landing outside Talina’s Weyr where the bulk of Arwith’s back had sealed her rider in. Monarth continued to the clearing before the makeshift dining hall. The silhouettes of the little green and well grown queen touching noses in the setting sun made the crowd murmur. Both lifted and flew to the heights settling together while low conversations rippled at this unexpected turn of events. T’gellan came walking up through the trestle tables removing his jacket, gloves and helmet. G’nareth and L’kent were the first to stand and salute. Other riders followed. He walked purposely to the head table where two queen riders and the other bronzes sat. As one they stood; relief was evident that apparently he was still their leader.

“Please sit,” T’gellan said as he stepped over the bench and sat. A drudge tottered up with a bowl of stew and basket of rolls. T’gellan tucked into his food and the others followed.

F'nton was the first to speak, “That’s green Path’s rider Mirrim, your Mirrim. You brought her to, to HER?”

T’gellan looked up from his food and winked.

H'rogan snorted, “You left for Benden midafternoon. We feared the inevitable. What plan is this, Weyrleader?”

“Let him eat,” Delianna interjected. “He will let us know the plan for his queen and green riders soon enough.”

A full hour later, the torches had been lit and the entire Weyr lingered at the cleared tables while T’gellan, Delianna, Umoal, and the Bronze Riders sat quietly at the head table. Even children were subdued. The glowing eyes of Arwith and Path were the only indication of the spirited conversation between Eastern’s insufferable Weyrwoman and The Weyrleader’s lover. Arwith’s eyes changed from yellow to red so often that people quit paying attention. Path’s never oscillated from various shades of green. Monarth had joined them along with the other bronzes and the other queens. Their eyes spun from yellow to white.

Suddenly Arwith rose to her haunches and bugled which was followed by a deafening bellow from all the bronzes. Golden Namanth and Siloth crooned along with Path’s higher pitched warble after the bronzes quieted. As the two women exited the weyr the Weyrfolk began to chatter. They walked together at times disappearing in the dark then appearing over a rise. Talina kept her chin up and jaw tight, but she had obviously been crying. Mirrim appeared grim; only T’gellan could discern that she’d accomplished her task at least to her satisfaction. They stopped before the head table where all had risen.

Both women looked only at T’gellan who looked between the two, waiting for one to speak. Arwith grunted. Talina cleared her throat, “Weyrleader, I alone was responsible for Volkona and Miridath’s injuries.”

Miridath trumpeted from her vigil by the infirmary.

T’gellan nodded; the bronzes and Delianna relaxed noticeably.

Talina cleared her throat again. “I go now to Benden to request transfer.”

“What? What does that mean?” S'form sputtered.

“Weyrwoman Talina requests that Green Path’s rider, Mirrim, journeywoman healer of Benden, join Eastern,” T’gellan said, loud enough for the Weyrfolk, crowding close to their leaders, to hear. Chatter rose first from the riders then bugling from their dragons. T’gellan would not step down and neither would Talina. How this new rider would fit between the Eastern Weyrleaders was yet to be known. The news was accepted as better than what they had feared.

As the crowd settled, another internal prompt from Arwith forced Talina to continue. “I, uh, take. I’ll return the green rider now to her Weyr and formally request her transfer from the Benden Leaders”. The two of them returned to the saddle of land in front of the queen rider’s weyr; their two dragons waiting for them. Moments later the foursome lifted then winked out above a rising Timor.

“Clever girl,” G’nareth said to nobody in particular. “Always knew her as a clever one.”

###

Changes happened quickly and for the better at Eastern. Mirrim quickly earned a position of authority that deferred subtly to T’gellan and Talina. She was quick to learn the names and abilities of all the Weyrfolk. Soon B’nard transfer from Benden was approved and Talina hired his sister-in-law, Bagira from Endyar Hold, above the Dunto Drainage to train Mauda. Bagira, with Bonogan’s concurrence brought some of their displaced holders, farmers and herdsmen from Endyar and Sidle holds. They were quick to make use of the arable land and pleased to start on lands that could never be threaded. And, the trade of southern goods for Telgar metal was begun by the astute acumen of Lady Balla and redoubtable bargaining tactics of Holder Bonogan.

Soon the mess hall was worthy of a Weyr. Mauda learned from Bagira. The weyrfolk returned to excavating the collapsed caves, using the rock to build more facilities. Talina moved from her cave to a new structure adjoining T’gellan and Mirrim’s. He finally had his centrally-located council room.

Mirrim was instrumental in Talina’s transformation from the Weyr’s liability to a purposeful leader who secured a new harbormaster, separate from the Monaco complex. Master Idolaron himself, came to oversee the completion of the original jetty. Talina was credited with bringing two more harpers from the Harpercraft Hall aiding greatly in teaching the young and arbitrating the new free holders. One was an excellent cartographer. A solid alliance and possible friendship germinated between the two women. Turning Talina into a figurehead was a daunting task but, keen to keep her title, she was an eager pupil if not an apt one. “Good thing she’s pretty,” Mirrim commented as she and T’gellan dropped into bed one night.

Riders, their families and ancillary workers consulted with Mirrim often, providing her their insight as to what should be erected at certain locations, given the terrain. She still saw the Infirmary as temporary. Its site located too close to other activities for convalescing dragons and riders. Finally, she invited Goren, Brekke and Sharra for their opinions. Before long one infirmary for the dragons and riders south of the new bowl on the other side of the saddle was built and another for the growing number of non-riders. It did solve the proximity issues that had caused discord.

There was a tense but healing first encounter between Volkona and Mirrim who insisted Talina come with her. Volkona was convinced to remain once she and Miridath healed. Brekke remained for several sevenday to care for the two. F’nor enjoyed frequent visits while his woman stayed to nurse Volkona. He walked Eastern with the pride of a father. He was pleased with his protégé, T’gellan and more than delighted with how well Mirrim became the glue between the Eastern Weyrleaders.

The work was arduous, constant but controlled. Restdays were enforced and gladly observed. In late autumn after the second wheat crop had been reaped, T’gellan caged a container of food and wineskin from Bagira then sought Mirrim who was checking on a few of the inmates of the Riders’ Infirmary. “C’mon Mir.” he took her by the elbow and led her to the waiting dragons.

“Where are we going?” she asked as he proffered her jacket. Obediently she dressed for riding.

“We’ve been meaning to show you two this for a while. Mount up.” He replied with a wink. They rose on the prevailing winds to a good height for between.

Mirrim was surprised to look down on a wide expanse of rolling grassland punctuated by clumps of trees and rock outcrops. There were several herds of runners wandering the plains. Sparkles hinted at a wide river meandering to the north. Southerly, in the distance, a purple smudge indicated a mountain range. T’gellan and Monarth were gliding towards a wide protrusion of grey rock. She and Path followed. He landed on a flat surface sufficient for two dragons and their riders. He quickly removed Monarth’s straps and the gear he had secured to his flank. Mirrim followed suit. Both dragons lifted and settled on the spires behind their riders.

“What is this place? How far are we from Eastern?” Mirrim asked as she turned to enjoy the view.

“I’ve brought Monarth here to feed but not so often that the herds stampede on sight. It’s the ideal spot with this shallow cave that’s inaccessible to all but dragons and riders.” T’gellan said as he laid out a rush bag just under an overhang then spread a fur over it. He picked up the stiff leather container and pulled a wineskin and two cups out along with a light meal of rolls, cheese and fruit.

Mirrim smiled. She walked over to help T’gellan who was spreading out a lighter, woven blanket, commonly used at Eastern. He straightened and pulled her into his arms.

“I’ve been waiting to show you this. It’ll be here,” he said, looking directly into her eyes.

“Here? For what?”

“Whenever Path is ready to rise; we’ll come here.”

T’gellan was pleased that he had been looking into her eyes. To watch the realization in the depths of her imposing green eyes flood over her face gratified him more than retaining his title as Eastern’s Weyrleader. Her lips quirked into his favorite smile; he anticipated a sharp retort but none came. She stepped away, hugging herself as she looked towards the distant mountains.

He came up behind her, pulling her to him and resting his chin on her head. “No?”

She spun in his arms burying her face in his chest and began sobbing. He held her tight and wondered at this outburst. It was not what he expected. As her breath calmed she pulled her head back and regarded him with red-rimmed eyes and splotchy face. “Just us? No more lots? No open flights?”

“Throw the Weyrleader’s woman’s mating flights open to the entire Weyr? Don’t be ridiculous.” He laughed. He quieted as she laid her head against him. The memory of the day after Path’s first mating flight when Mirrim lay bruised and battered on the Infirmary cot flashed before his mind’s eye. A glimpse of her life after he left Benden took stark shape. No, somebody like his Mirrim would have suffered more than enjoyed Path’s mating flights that occurred with alarming regularity once she stopped suppressing Path’s libido. “Just us.” He repeated.

“Yes, this is the perfect place, T’gellan”.

“ _If Monarth can catch me_.” The little green added with a warble.

<end>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, the end of the tale of how the Weyr accepted Mirrim as part of T'gellan and Talina's leadership. I don't know if Ann McCaffrey ever wanted to explain the strange situation at what eventually became Monaco Weyr but this was what I imagined. I hope you found it believable, faithful readers. If not believable then at least entertaining. 
> 
> There are dynamics between other relationships created in this story that I never fleshed out but sketched in order to bring more depth to the three main characters. I don't know if they are even deserving of a one-shot. However, if you want more of B'nard-Bagira / Mirrim-Talina, Volkona's recovery, Endyar's captured spy or others, I leave them to your requests. 
> 
> Thanks for following this story, your comments and Kudos. You have truyly bessed me.


End file.
